


A Year and a Day

by LoveChilde



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Asgardians can be total assholes, Brotherly Affection, Gen, Loki Needs a Hug, No Slash, Odin's A+ Parenting, Punishment, The Author Regrets Nothing, Thor Is a Good Bro, Whump, well technically torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 10:59:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 40,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveChilde/pseuds/LoveChilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Avengers, Odin allows all who feel that Loki has wronged them to take their revenge- for a year and a day, with Thor to witness and verify this revenge. Angst, heavy whump, feels, brotherly love, Loki being himself, and Thor likewise. Author apologizes for nothing, except possibly for being some 8 months late with the story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this: http://maskofreason.wordpress.com/2012/05/23/very-good-writing-why-loki-won-in-the-avengers/ because if you ask Loki, he totally won. He just...miscalculated a few things. 
> 
> Dozens of this type of story have been written, but I needed some simple, easy punishment fic, and it grew around me into a 30K+ word monster. It is, however, complete, so at least there's that. 
> 
> My thanks to everyone who held my hand, provided advice of just listened to me bitch about how writing Loki is hard, because he does what he bloody well wants, at all times.

Slowly, so very slowly but inevitably, Thor's eyes fill with tears which spill over in silence. He doesn't move a muscle as they trickle gracelessly down his face and wet his whiskers, doesn't attempt to wipe them away or hide them. As he has done every night except the very first night, Thor weeps.  
As he has done every night, including that very first night, Loki watches his brother, dry-eyed, as the lash bites into his skin again and again, leaving long ugly welts on top of the welts from the previous nights. As he has wondered every night, Loki again wonders why Thor, safe on the other side of the room, is weeping. He will not ask, has not asked, but he wonders all the same. It gives his mind something to do as his body absorbs the assault in shuddering silence.  
There have been many such nights before. Many more will surely follow, as the All-Father has decreed.  
Loki wonders.

***

Returning to Asgard was easier than Loki anticipated; all it took was trying to take over a world, allying himself with a being so dangerous and alien that he was more frightening than Odin had ever been, and as if by magic, in swooped Thor to take him home.

Home. The word is bitter on his lips now. Was Asgard ever home, really? Better than the Void, by far; better also than the barren rock where the Other had taken him, and better than Midgard- marginally. Midgard had been such fun, toying with their shiny new heroes. But at the end, his plan, convoluted and near-derailed as it had been, succeeded. Thor took him back. The muzzle and cuffs Loki tolerated as necessary concessions to the humans' ire with him. As if their puny, too-young city was something they couldn't rebuild even inside their own brief lifetimes! Truly, they'd over-reacted.

Asgard is as it ever was, spires and forts, wide-eyed warriors watching them as they entered the city, carrying the Tesseract between them. So much trouble stemmed from that miserable box and the power it contained. Loki considered regretting having used it, but what good would regret be, now? As if anybody would believe him. He was brought before Odin and Frigga, and found he couldn't look at the woman he'd thought of as 'mother'. He didn't want to see the disgust on her face- or any  
other emotion. Instead, he looked up at the All-Father from his position on the floor, and put every ounce of anger, resentment and bitterness he felt into that look. 

Odin's returned look was terrible to behold. He said only this- "Loki. Sleep."

When Loki awoke three days later, the muzzle and cuffs were still on him, and his sentence had been decided. Again, he was dragged in front of the throne and pushed to the floor. He didn't look around, but knew that the hall was near-empty- only the Elders, the King and Queen, and Thor. Not nearly as public as this sort of audience generally was. Odin wasted no time.

"Loki Odinson. For your rash, foolish and murderous actions, for your attacks on your brother Thor-" Something in Loki's gut unfurled, half in longing, half in disgust, until he remembered that his parentage wasn't common knowledge in Asgard. Of course the All-Father wanted to keep his own treachery secret, and so had to keep up the pretence as he had before, "-for the sabotage of Asgard's relations with two neighbouring worlds, there can be only one punishment."  
Loki held his breath and waited for the word that would end him- or for Thor to call for mercy. He was rather counting on that call, really. However, Odin's next words completely blindsided him.

"Loki, you are too dangerous to banish, to be allowed to walk freely between worlds. And…you are too precious to me to be slain as a common criminal." He allowed a moment for that to sink in, as Loki's world froze along with the blood in his veins. "To take away your magic would, eventually, kill you. This, too, I will not do. Your crimes are not against me- they are against the people of Jotunnheim and Midgard, against the reputation of the warriors of Asgard as fair and honest warriors. Thus, it is the people of these three realms who would be avenged in your punishment. I sentence you to be locked up, chained and gagged as you are now, for a year and a day, or until every warrior in Asgard who feels they are owed their due from you has satisfaction. Such vengeance as they choose, to be exacted from you by one warrior every night, from sunset until the third hour after midnight." Odin paused, apparently thoughtful despite the fact that every word had been considered, weighed and decided in advance. 

"They will have a choice of implements set by me, and Thor will observe every such punishment session to be sure that they do not exceed the limits I have set. They may not remove limbs, eyes or other organs, nor maim you permanently. They may not violate you. The muzzle should leave you access enough to your own magic to heal yourself, at least a little, during the day. You will be fed, and your servants will all be deaf and mute, that they may not hear your honeyed words, nor yet repeat them to others. No other will be there, unless you are safely gagged." 

It is a lot to take in- nothing at all like Loki'd expected; cruel in its way, and yet- it was only pain. He could take pain, and had endless patience and plenty of experience at being used as punching bag for the warriors of Asgard. The All-Father was being…merciful. Very much so. Loki had no idea what to think. Thor opened his mouth, got out all of one syllable before Odin stopped him.

"No, Thor. The decision has been made. You will supervise your brother's punishment." Loki would have bared his teeth at that, had the muzzle allowed it. The thought of Thor watching his punishment made him sick, but he could hardly protest it now. The hall was full of muttering, the Elders quietly furious, Thor's companions puzzled, angry- not Loki's concern, fortunately. As he had Thor, Odin silenced them all with a gesture. 

"Enough. I will be the first to punish my son, tonight. And you-" he turned to Thor, "Prince of Asgard, heir to my throne, you will be the last. When all others have taken their revenge, you will take yours and all guilt, all wrongs, will be atoned for. Take him away." He turned away, cold and imperial.


	2. Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So it begins, my son..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starts out short, will pick up speed and volume in future chapters.

Warriors of Asgard are, by and large, unimaginative folk. Offer them a choice of tools and implements and eight times out of ten they will choose a heavy single-tailed whip, the lash they are familiar with from their own youthful transgressions and from the chastising of commoners. Some of them think it clever, to use an implement meant for slaves and servants; others lack even that meagre spark of supposed wit. Loki has grown exceedingly familiar with the feel of leather striking his bare skin, intimately so.   
The sequence of events is almost always the same- at sundown, Thor snaps the cuffs around his wrists to chains hanging from the cave-cell's ceiling, leaving him hanging with his bare toes brushing the ground. He's held high enough to be uncomfortable, but low enough that he can support himself on his toes, for a few minutes at least. When this is done, the rock opens behind Loki's back- by magic, and even weeks into the punishment he still hasn't figured out where the cracks are, or how it moves- and a warrior steps in. Thor greets him by name, for Loki's benefit, he is sure, because otherwise they rarely move so he can see them. Warriors of Asgard mostly strike from behind, he's found, and as his back holds fewer things he'd like to protect than his front, Loki appreciates that. The warrior takes up the whip and begins, and Loki takes the beating in silence. Even if his mouth was not gagged with metal and leather, he'd never give them the pleasure of making him cry out. So he takes it, silent, and watches Thor weep, and wonders why.  
***  
Among the All-Father’s many unexpected kindnesses, the fact that he is the first one to be avenged on Loki turns out to be rather an important one. It sets the tone for all the others, in length, in force- the others can’t know exactly what Odin did, of course, but warriors carry tales as well as any milkmaid, and so the second warrior tells the third, and the third the fourth, and so on. Nothing stays secret for long. It's true that Odin's strength is formidable, and that his mastery of the heavy whip is unequalled; if he wanted, he could lay Loki bare to the bone, tear away skin and flesh and leave him a bloodied, crippled mess- but he does not. It hurts certainly, but no worse than Loki expects, and less than some things he's experienced (nothing could hurt more than the hold the Other had on him, on his mind and body and soul), and is almost a comforting, familiar pain. It's hardly the first time he's felt the sting of Odin's anger, and the anger in his heart is as familiar and comforting as the knowledge of the hand wielding the whip. It's longer, harder and more intense than any punishment he's experienced for youthful mischief, but after the first few lashes test the limits of his endurance yet fail to break the skin, he knows that he can and will take this and survive.   
Odin makes full use of the time he is allotted- he starts immediately after sunset, and stops exactly at the third hour after midnight. By then, Loki is a bare breath away from screaming, holding on to control with the last of his strength. He refuses to the last to show weakness- or contrition. Odin's voice is terrible when he puts the whip down, and Loki hopes that his shiver can be attributed to cold or pain rather than fear.

"So it begins, my son. So it shall end, in a year and a day, or when every warrior of Asgard who wishes it has taken their revenge on you. I shall not see you again until it is done. Thor, take him down and let him rest."

Silent, Thor does. That first night, he does not speak. That only starts later, after they're both more used to it, as much as anyone can be used to such things. Loki, as usual, ignores his prattle.

The first time someone draws a knife, Loki is only aware of it because Thor reaches to stop him. The warrior behind him only laughs. "The All-Father decreed he may not be maimed, not that I may not use a knife to declare him what he is." Though Loki cannot see him, he is very much aware of the point of the knife carving a rune high on his back, near his left shoulder, and another on his right hip. The sharp point of steel cuts deep, but not too deep that Loki doesn't recognize the runes- 'Traitor' and 'Liesmith'. Blood runs down his back and his leg until he spends some subtle magic to stop the bleeding.

"You've done enough, Ulfi. Now leave." Thor rumbles, but the warrior laughs again. 

"I have branded him by name. Now I may be avenged." He is careful to only land the whip where it won't mar the runes; somehow, Loki finds it more painful than the previous nights. 

He expands more magic than he should the next morning, to leave no trace of the runes on his skin, but rumour travels quickly again. The runes are etched into his flesh at least every other night, always in roughly the same place, and healing those means he has little left to mend the rest of him- little, and less with every passing day. If any of them think to use an enchanted knife, he knows the scar may remain, despite his best efforts, until the end of his punishment year at least. He prays they do not think of it, and lives with the constant soreness of unhealed welts and bruises.

A week later, Thor says something Loki cannot ignore, much as he tries. "I am no longer allowed to spar with warriors who have already taken their revenge on you." He said, with a true note of regret in his voice. "In fact, the All-Father has instructed me to train only with my own companions, and not to call any other warrior into the training arena."

Loki's tongue may be silenced, and he keeps his face blank as ever, but Thor answers the unasked question all the same, with a small, slightly rueful smile. "It has been my...habit, to train with those warriors who have visited you. It is possible that I have been somewhat more strenuous in my training with them, that I have- not held back, as I would with warriors who have not my advantage of strength and skill. It may be that I called one or two into the arena whom I knew were due to visit you, and...got a little carried away."

This casual showing off would normally curdle Loki's stomach, but the fact remains that Thor has apparently been systematically beating up Loki's tormentors, taking his own revenge in his own crude, straightforward way. The thought that Thor might expect his gratitude for this makes him queasy, but Thor says nothing else, does nothing beyond stroking Loki's arm in what he probably thinks is a comforting fashion, but only hurts more. In any case, it is clear that Thor obeys the All-Father's orders this time, and the warriors put more of an effort into their swings after that, it seems. Loki's disgust with Thor only grows, pushing away the question of why Thor even bothered to try and lessen his punishment. Loki files the question away next to the one wondering why, weeks into the year-long sentence, Thor still weeps.


	3. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Warriors Three and the Lady Sif get their chance at revenge, and Asgard cannot be allowed to win.

By the third full moon of his punishment, Loki finds that one can get used to almost anything, unpleasant as it is, if a routine is kept. One night blends into the next, one hurt into another. He has magic enough to heal himself, but never all the way, never so that he's free of pain, from the first evening on. He is fed, unflavoured nutritious slop that he forces down just enough of to fuel his magic, to be able to continue healing. He knows he's growing thinner, and he knows Thor worries, because he says so, repeatedly, begging him to take better care of himself. He is cleaned nightly- washed down with buckets of water and left to dry in the chill air. He's not allowed clothing, of course, no protection from the elements or from irate Asgardians, but his Jotun blood means the cold has never bothered him, which serves him well now. It becomes routine, a habit- eat in silence, wash in silence, suffer in silence. At first he talks when he is fed, just to remind himself that he still has use of his tongue, but his attendants cannot hear him, and he stops after a while, fearing that madness may be closer than he likes. After that, he is silent, except in the safety of his own head- trapped in his mind in a whirl of misery, pain, resentment and hatred. He sleeps most of the time, despite the slow crawl of nightmares, as at least these provide some variation that the ongoing unpleasantness of waking life does not possess.

He makes a point of ignoring Thor for weeks, closing his ears to the nervous, meaningless prattle of his not-brother. But sometimes he can't help hearing him, and sometimes what he says is actually important, if not quite encouraging.

"They're rebuilding the Biforst." Thor reports proudly some four months into the punishment year. "Soon, we shall be able to travel as we used to, thanks to the power of the Tesseract." He cannot read Loki's expression under the gag, which is for the best, really, as hatred for the damned cube and its otherworldly power makes his teeth clench on the leather and steel in his mouth until his jaw hurts, his fists clench so his nails pierce the skin of his palms. Fortunately, Thor doesn't notice, and continues on to further news that Loki couldn't care less about. Among them is the fact that the Warriors Three are due to return from a hunting trip, and would no doubt be visiting Loki quite soon. "They are all very angry with you, brother." The blond warrior warns, quite unnecessarily. "And they are all very skilled at arms. They may hurt you very badly." 

Loki can't quite hold back a shrug. Them, or somebody else- they all hurt him. He no longer cares. 

Of course, when they do finally visit him he finds that Thor was right to worry, and that he does, in a way, care. They are the companions of his childhood as well as Thor's, since they dragged him along after them, adventure and misadventure alike. Loki has the same basic disdain for them as he does for most Asgardians, but he respects their prowess in battle, and their devotion to Thor, misguided as it is. They have sometimes shown him kindness, in the past, and he hates them for it, for how it had made him feel wanted and liked, falsely so, making the disillusionment all the more painful. But he knows them well, and they him- and knowledge gives the power to hurt.

Volstagg comes first, which in retrospect is actually a good thing. He is a simple and formidable warrior, and Loki doesn't need Thor's greeting to tell him exactly who is standing behind him. Unlike most others, Volstagg comes around to face him. He doesn't speak, but the look he gives Loki is full of meaning, followed by an even longer look over his shoulder, at Thor. Loki has hurt his friend, and Loki is about to pay, that much is clear. The hulking warrior only uses his fists, but that is more than enough; Loki can feel bones jarring, ribs breaking, as fists slam into him again and again and he swings from his chains helplessly. He grits his teeth to stop even a grunt from getting through. The beating is mercifully short, but the damage is extensive, and Loki crumples to the floor as soon as Thor unlocks his chains. The blond warrior looks at his friend through tear-filled eyes, shaking his head slowly.

"This was ill done, Volstagg." He says, rather as he does when Volstagg eats more than his share at a feast. More solemn than usual, Volstagg shakes his head in return.

"No more than he deserves, my friend. For what he has done to you, more than to all of us. Maybe if he understands that we care about your welfare, even if he doesn't..." He looks down at Loki, who glares hatred at him through the pain. "Maybe he can yet return to us, forgiven. But Thor," He looks up, more serious than Loki has ever seen him, "don't set too many hopes on it. You've been hurt enough by his folly and malice."

"You have said enough." Thor sounds gruff, and tired. "Go, if you are done." Volstagg leaves, and Thor carefully lays Loki out, straightening his limbs with tears slowly dripping down his face again, like rain down a pane of glass. Loki ignores him, focuses on mending broken bones and torn organs, expands all the energy he has on being more or less in one piece the next night. It takes him half the night and most of the day, demands painstaking concentration, and leaves him entirely drained by the next sunset, when Fendral arrives.

By the time the handsome fighter leaves, Loki is grateful he managed that much. Fendral may seem like a flighty fop, but he is awe-inspiring with a rapier, and wields the slender length of steel with stunning precision, laying it into Loki's back and legs, not breaking the skin, but only just. The needle-sharp edge could pierce him full of holes easily, leave him leaking from a dozen cuts, but Fendral swings rather than stabs, causing less damage in the long run, which Loki appreciates, in a very abstract sort of way. He says nothing, but his eyes speak volumes as he pushes blond hair out of his face. Disdain, anger, disappointment; Fendral always liked him more than the other two did, for his style and flair with adventures. He was more cultured, also, and they found more to talk about. With him, it's more than just anger at the damage done to Thor and to Asgard- it is personal. It feels personal. It hurts like molten metal against his skin, and he forces himself to glare at Fendral with the same hatred he had shown Volstagg, because what good is a former friend, if the friend is as much a part of his pack of tormentors as his greatest enemy? Hatred and anger fuelled by pain are easier to maintain than any other emotion, and Loki basks in their heat. Healing the raised welts left by the rapier takes less effort than mending broken bones, but Loki's reserves are dangerously low, and he's not fully healed by the next night, when Hogun visits him.

Silent and cold, Hogun is possibly the most dangerous of Thor's companions. He is methodical, but not without his own touch of elegance, demonstrated when he shows Loki his chosen instrument- a slender rod, bluish-black and glistening, and explains "Jotun bone," with his expression as still and severe as ever. As he moves behind Loki, Thor's face says everything that Hogun's can't or won't, and Loki's almost amused by how expressive he is, how fear and worry play across his features in waves. He doesn't stay amused for long.

He wonders, as the first stroke draws a line of blood across his shoulders, if Hogun is aware of the irony of using the bone of his slain kin against him. The bone is viciously sharp, and draws blood with every stroke, sliding warm, then chilly and sticky, down his legs. Thor no longer protests this, but his eyes, slowly brimming over, are full of reproach. Hogun limits himself to twenty four strokes- twelve evenly spaced diagonal cuts from the left, twelve from the right, from Loki's shoulders to his knees. For the first time, perhaps, Loki is aware of how grateful he is, in a perverse way, for the fact that the gag he wears day and night serves to stop any sound of pain that might escape him. The Jotun bone leaves a chill where it touches, a sort of cold that goes right to his core, where cold has never bothered him before. There is something dark and dangerous in Hogun's eyes as he slowly, silently nods towards Thor, and runs a slow finger through the blood on Loki's back. For a moment, Loki's sure he is going to lick his finger clean, but Hogun only wipes it off on the wall, shakes his head, and leaves, as silently as he came. 

Loki's shivering when Thor takes him down from his chains that night, and the shivering doesn't stop as he settles Loki down on his pallet and gently wipes the blood away. Some of it has run down Loki's arms, to his fingers, and he makes a first attempt at communication in months, sketching the crude marks hunters use for 'stay away' on the stone floor in his own blood. Thor shakes his head and smears the marks away, then cleans Loki's fingers as gently as he does the rest of him.

"I can't stay away, brother." Even the gag doesn't stop Loki's snarl at the title, undeserved and unwanted. "Father ordered it, as you know well. Father, who will not hesitate to remove your fingers if he sees you use them to speak. Be cautious, Loki, you're in enough trouble already."

Loki closes his eyes and ignores him, but can't help being grateful, despite himself, when he is washed with warm water instead of cold the next morning. He knows Thor saw to it, knows his distress was noticeable, and as much as he hates himself for showing any weakness, for letting Thor help him, he has no way of avoiding it and is pragmatic enough to take certain gifts as they are given. He still doesn't manage to heal the cuts away by the next evening, and feels them with every breath, closed but very much present, as Thor chains him up again, looking apologetic. Even the weakest warrior could reopen the wounds easily, and that night he knows he's not facing a weak warrior, not by far.

"Hello Loki." She is the first in four months who has bothered to greet him, but her voice has a mocking edge to it. As best he can between chains and muzzle, Loki inclines his head in greeting. If anyone is more dangerous to him than Hogun is, it's the Lady Sif. As much an outsider as he was, until the male warriors accepted her, they'd often sat together as children and shared complaints about the others. Sif is one of few among the warriors of Asgard whom Loki is willing to call, grudgingly, a friend. Or was, rather, until that mess on Midgard. But she is no longer a friend. She is a woman, smarter than the average warrior by far, more inventive, and most likely angrier, for much the same reason as Fendral. Plus the fact that she is in love with Thor, Loki adds to himself ruefully, meeting her scornful gaze with equal scorn, and an added dose of fury. He allows the expression for the briefest moment before slipping on the blank mask which is all she deserves now. She shakes his head and huffs a breath of irritation. "Still proud, Liesmith? What have you to be proud of? Pointless destruction, mindless, needless violence? Bullying of weaker species? I seem to recall your dislike of the warriors for just these faults- or are you willing to allow them in yourself? Or is it just that bullying and murder on a realm-wide scale are just fine, and it's only the smaller skirmishes you disdain?" Disgust and anger leak through the calm words. "Is it alright, if you destroy a whole realm? See inferior species as vermin?" She studies him, up and down, unconcerned with his nudity. walks around him and trails a light finger over one of the unhealed cuts on his back. It's an effort of will and body not to shiver at the touch. "You are a fool, a coward, a murderer and an offence to any who ever sympathized with you, few as they are." She says at last. "A burden on your brother, though I'll never understand why he bothers any more." She glanced towards Thor and he shrugs, agreeing without rancour.

"You probably never will, aye. Get on with it Sif, please. You were his friend once."

"He was worthy of it, once." She replies, turning away from Loki. "I wish you didn't have to suffer this, for us to see his true self." She hefts the whip. "I see the warriors of Asgard prefer not to look upon your face as they punish you, but I would see your eyes, Liesmith. Besides," Her smile has little to do with joy, and makes Loki re-evaluate just how dangerous she is, "it seems your back has had quite a workout already. It's kind of the others to leave me a part of you where I know the marks will all be mine. For a while, at least, until some other has the same idea." Her smile is worse than Hogun's silence, almost as bad as Odin's one-eyed glare. 

Sif takes her time, putting all her strength into every stroke of the whip. On one hand, the unmarked skin of his chest and legs takes it better than the rest of him would have, but on the other, those parts of him are more vulnerable, more sensitive, and with Sif staring him full in the face Loki cannot afford a single flinch, even the minutest shift in his expression is unthinkable, and it's harder than he expects. He steels himself and tries to send his mind away to where he's safe, but the depth of his mind has been violated by The Other, and there may be no safety there, either. More than any previous night, Sif's night of vengeance is mentally and emotionally exhausting, and leaves Loki drained, confused and more fragile than he cares to admit. The time after she leaves, when he has to keep up that same blank façade for Thor, is an eternity in itself. Only after Thor leaves as well that he can drag himself to his pallet, curl up on his side, and focus on hatred and plans of elaborate revenge until he no longer feels like he's been laid bare and scrubbed raw on the inside.

When he reaches inside to draw out magic and heal himself, he can feel the wispy tendrils just out of reach, evading him, too weak to be of use. Nothing left, for now, and that scares him. Losing the remains of his magic would make him even more powerless, leave him no way to fortify himself against the daily punishment. He falls into a fitful sleep, saved from the true horror of the memories only because he's sure that it is only a memory, and not a true dream-encounter with The Other. He tries not to think of what he'd do, if ever that malicious, incomprehensible entity decides to take its own vengeance for his failure. When he wakes, a silent servant lays food before him and removes the muzzle from his mouth. He pokes at the food listlessly, still unable to reach the elusive magic, and forces himself to finish almost the entire bowl, which he has not done in weeks. His stomach threatens to rebel, but he manages to keep the food where it is as the muzzle closes on him again. Fed, he goes back to sleep and wakes with Thor shaking him, looking worried.

"Brother? You- you have not healed yourself?" Loki rolls away from his touch and realizes that yes, he's let an entire day go by without healing himself beyond the naturally faster healing granted to his kind. The sleep and food have helped, he feels stronger, but healing takes time and concentration, and he has little of both as the chains are attached, pulling him upright to hang from his arms again, supporting himself just barely on his toes. Loki mentally scrambles to accomplish what he can before the next warrior comes in, focusing on his back in the reasonable assumption that the Lady Sif really was the only creative one of the bunch.

Thor watches, as worried as ever, but seems to relax just a little when he sees who the night's visitor is. He greets him, and Loki vaguely connects the name to a face, so young he's nearly beardless, an unblooded youth. They've never exchanged words, and yet this child, too, thinks he has a right to avenge himself on Loki. The humiliation of it stings more than the whip, which is used lightly and inexpertly- and briefly, as after no more than a dozen lashes the youth manages to smack himself in the face with the backlash of his own whip, and retreats, mortified. The muzzle hides Loki's bitter grin, which is really all for the best. Even the normally oblivious Thor seems to be a little embarrassed by the whole scene, as he lets Loki down again much sooner than expected. 

"At least you have time to rest tonight." Thor's hand lingers carefully on his shoulder, where he somehow finds an uninjured spot to squeeze, warm and reassuring and Loki hates him again, and yet feels a sharp twist of loss when the contact ends. "Father is choosing well, I'm sure he knows how hard these past few days have been on you."

Loki growls and his hands clench with what he's sure ought to be fury at this new information, but he's too tired to truly be angry. That the order of his punishment is changed out of pity is unbearable, he knows this, but he can't bring himself to care, if it truly means a night's reprieve. Thor lays him down on his pallet and again cleans the blood from his back where even those few lashes reopened the half-healed cuts Hogun left. Loki wants to push him away, but has neither the strength of body nor of will to do it. Though he hates to admit it, even to himself, Thor's gentle touch these past nights has been the first nice thing to happen to him in weeks, and he does not wish it to end, just yet. He doses off with Thor's hand stroking his back, and wakes, hours later, with fingers running through his hair, soothing, warm and guarding against nightmares. He jerks up, pulling away sharply with a snarl muffled by the muzzle, his eyes blazing fury. Thor regards him, unbothered by his rage.

"Peace, brother. You slept and I did not wish to wake you, but I must leave now. You are to be fed soon, and cleaned; you'll feel better after that, I'm sure."

Loki snarls again, feeling the anger and shame deep in his chest; shame at wanting the comfort, anger at the fact that it was provided without question. He is not some pet to be pacified with the prospect of food, and Thor is, as ever, a fool. He lunges at the larger god, hands curled into fists, only to be brought short by the cuffs around his wrists and ankles, which tighten of their own accord though unattached to any chains. They slam him back and against the wall and hold him there, dazed, as Thor stands and approaches him carefully.

"You know you cannot attack me, Loki. Father would never allow that. I know you're angry, brother, I know you hurt. But it is your just punishment, and it is almost half over already. Don't take it out on me." His hand reaches out to touch Loki, but he clearly thinks better of it before reaching his target. It's an unexpected spark of wisdom that would amuse Loki, if he weren't so livid. He keeps struggling against the cuffs holding him back until Thor shakes his head and leaves, and only then allows himself to slump, as the hold is released, and slide to the floor. He is trembling with emotion, anger and hate and just enough despair that he turns most of the hate upon himself. He wants to lash out and destroy something, anything, but there is nothing in his cell to destroy, nothing to turn on but himself. He slams his fist into the floor once, hard, relishing the bright pain just because it's not caused by another's hand, before the cuffs pin him to the wall again. Apparently, he's not allowed to hurt himself, either. The cuffs hold him until he exhausts himself struggling against them, feeling wetness on his back again where it met the rock again and again. When he's finally still, the hold on his wrists and ankles pulls him to the floor, rather gently, but does not allow him to move from there.

No attendants come the next morning. He is neither fed nor cleaned, and he is restrained to the floor, barely able to move, until Thor comes in again just before sunset. Clearly, trying to harm his brother calls for extra punishment, which is to be expected, really. He has the time to heal himself, at least, if not the energy to do so completely. Thor looks deeply unhappy when he comes in and sets Loki up for another night, but says nothing. He watches, as usual, his eyes brimming over with tears as another warrior takes his revenge on Loki. It's no easy visit, tonight; the whip is used hard and swift, with some skill, and it seems that, once broken, the unwillingness to draw blood no longer exists. What Hogun started, this newest visitor continues, and Loki can see an eternity of months stretching before him, with many others doing the same.

And so, of course, he attacks Thor again as soon as the warrior leaves and his chains are released, not giving him a chance to offer comfort or assistance this time. The chains catch him before he can lay a finger on the heir to Asgard, of course, and again leave him hanging pressed to the wall, bleeding and howling muffled hatred through the gag. Again, he is kept restrained throughout the night and day, and he is neither fed nor cleaned. Again, Thor says nothing, only looks at him with wordless heartbreak, like an abandoned pet. It's disgusting. However, it amuses Loki to see him thus disheartened, even at the price of his own hunger and discomfort, so he continues to do it, throwing himself at Thor again and again at the end of every nightly punishment, for a week. By the end of that week he is hungry, filthy, sore and more unhappy than he has been since returning to Asgard, and Thor still hasn't retaliated, hasn't struck back at him. He only watches and weeps.

After a week of nightly attacks, Thor stops coming. Instead, a silent attendant, one of his usual mute servants, attached the chains to his cuffs and pulled him up by them. There is no one to greet the incoming warrior by name, and for the first time Loki has no idea whose hand holds the whip. He finds it oddly and extremely disconcerting, this ignorance. He has nothing to concentrate on, no one to look at, and for a moment he tells himself he prefers it that way. He knows his own lies better than anyone, however, and the silence disturbs him. The attendant takes him down when the warrior is done, and leaves him on his pallet, his touch chilly and distant. Loki is momentarily tempted to hurt himself again, just to see what might happen, but a week without food affects even a god, and he decides not to risk too much of Odin's anger, just now. He could use the time to heal. He feels Thor's absence like a hole in his world, but forces his mind not to dwell on it.

That night, though he is given food and water to wash with for the first time in seven nights, Loki finds himself desperately lonely, strangely homesick for something that is not precisely a home. The feeling only grows over the next six nights, as night after night he is alone, with only the silent attendants for company. Taking his punishment alone, without a word or a touch that isn't painful, reminds him sharply of his time with The Other. His sleep is torn by nightmares, his waking time stifled with silence.

After seven nights, Thor comes in at last, and Loki finds himself unexpectedly moved and relieved. He steels himself and pays no attention to the other man, doesn't twitch when Thor greets the evening's warrior by name, and tries not to think on how much more tolerable the whole thing is, with Thor there. It hurts, but the hurt is only physical, which he can take far more easily. He finds he even missed Thor's pathetic, useless tears. 

When they are left alone, Thor approaches him slowly, wary. "You will not attack me again, brother? Father has said that if you do, I won't be able to return to visit you for a moon's-turn." 

A month? Wordless horror makes Loki's already chilly blood run colder. Seven nights were quite enough to almost defeat him. 

Loki, defeated by Asgard? Never. The very thought is not to be borne. So of course, he nods meekly, gives every show of contrition, and then rips his fingernails down Thor's arms as soon as his hands are free, knowing that he is a fool, but unwilling to admit that the wiser course is the one decided by Odin.

He has ample time to regret his idiocy over the month that follows; an idiocy, which, upon reflection, he decides is so huge as to be destructive to his image as an intelligent being. As he suffers in silence, his attackers anonymous, his only companionship offering no mental stimulation whatsoever, Loki feels his mind start to unravel. He is too distracted by pain to think even of revenge, let alone of anything more complex, and his days pass in a haze, punctuated by feeding, washing, beating in an endless cycle. Healing features in his daily schedule occasionally, when he can be bothered to remember to do it. He knows he forgets to eat, but it doesn't seem to matter any more. None of his attackers wrest any sort of noise from him, and even his nightmares wake him breathless and silent. The scraping of feet and dragging of chains are the loudest noises in his cell, in that month, and the silence is like a veil around his mind, muffling all thought. He is aware of it enough to find it frightening. 

One month alone, and though he keeps track of the days meticulously, files and notes every person's individual touch, he is still surprised when Thor's sudden presence breaks the silence, when his loud, warm, overwhelming self is almost violently thrust back into his world. Because Thor does not do things by half, and a reunion, unhappy though it may be, means that he allows himself to wrap Loki in a bone-crushing hug, practically lift him off the ground, and ignore all decorum. And the true hell of it is that Loki dares not struggle to make him let go, because that might be considered another attack, and a further month of solitude might finish what The Other started, and drive him completely insane. So he stays still, lets Thor hug him tightly, hiding a wince at the pressure on his wounds, and does nothing to resist. It takes a greater effort of will not to cling and sink into the warm embrace than it does not to lash out at it, but he keeps himself unresponsive as best he can, and trusts in Thor's obliviousness to cover for what he can't hide. 

"Never do this to me again, brother." Thor's voice is choked when he finally puts Loki down, his eyes already wet. "This past month- I was so worried. And you look terrible."

Loki hopes that his eyes convey his full opinion of this inane statement of the obvious; they both look terrible, frankly, though Loki rather thinks he has far more cause to look so than Thor does, but Thor was ever ruled by his emotions. No more can be said, as Thor moves to attach the chains and a warrior comes in. Loki keeps his eyes on Thor, sends his mind elsewhere as best he can, and barely even notices the kiss of the lash, tonight. Again, he finds himself surprised when it ends, and he has no real memory of it except new welts atop the old. Thor's hands are gentle and warm as he is brought down to the floor and laid out. He doesn't resist as Thor cleans him up, fusses over how thin he's gotten, and generally behaves like his boorish, oddly comforting self. His voice is the first that Loki has heard in a month, and banal as his words are, they are at least something outside his own mind to listen to. Some of it is actually interesting, in a way.

"The Bifrost is complete, brother." Thor sounds thrilled. "We can travel between the Realms much more easily now. I have already visited Midgard and seen my friends again- did you know, in six months here, it has been over a year, by their counting? It is strange, is it not, that time travels differently here and there? I think it strange."

Loki thinks it makes perfect sense, due to the distance of the Realms from the Great Tree, and other cosmic reasons Thor would probably never understand, but he only shrugs in response, and it is more of a reaction than any but Thor have gotten out of him thus far. Thor continues, undeterred as always.

"Father has extended invitation to representatives of Midgard and Jotunheim to come and take part in your punishment, to give you your just dues for the damage you caused in both realms. The Midgardians are still debating, but Jotunheim has announced that it shall send three representatives, all Laufey's sons, and that the first should arrive in a couple of weeks. It would be good to be free of your sin against them, would it not?" 

No, it most certainly would not. Loki knows that the giants would not be bound by Odin's leniency with him- he can only hope they abide by his orders not to maim him permanently. He cannot think of any real way they'd ever forgive him for trying to destroy their realm, and they aren't known for any gentility of spirit. At best, they'd make him wish for the return of the Aesir warriors- and maybe that is the point; he wouldn't put that kind of manipulation past the All-Father. But it wasn't something he could easily convey to Thor, and so he does not even try, and allows Thor to stroke his hair for a while before his is left alone again. Alone- but feeling somehow comforted despite himself. The next morning, he finds it in himself to polish off every bit of the food he is given, and makes a greater effort at healing himself than he has in a while. He knows he needs to build up his strength and prepare for the Jotuns' visits.


	4. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Visitors arrive to take part in Loki's punishment- and their methods leave Loki reeling.

The next few weeks pass by in a blur. Loki makes no real note of who visits him every evening, and does not try to attack Thor again, suffering his small kindnesses without protest, though they hurt him more than the beatings do, twist his guts with warring anger and reluctant gratitude, still uncertain of why his not-brother even bothers. Has he nothing better to do? 

Loki makes a point of not thinking ahead at all, now. Thoughts of elaborate revenge warmed him, during the first few months of his punishment, but now all he really wants is to leave, to be gone from Asgard and never to return, a self-exile more binding than any that Odin could force upon him. How could he continue to live among the Aesir when they have all seem him thus humiliated, or heard elaborate stories of his punishment? He is sure those are making the rounds among those who are not warriors, and have no active part in it. They never liked him before, and now they would mock him. He has no wish to return to his former life in Asgard; he has seen too much, done too much to be forgiven, no matter how harsh the punishment. In moments of self pity, he thinks that it is unlikely anyone would forgive him, truly. The All-Father may be powerful, but he cannot command the hearts of warriors, not to that extent. Beyond that, he tries not to think of what might happen at the end of a year and a day. He especially tries not to think ahead to the first Jotun visitor. Thinking about it will not make the fact of the impending visit easier to bear. 

Thor seems to be oddly excited when he comes in, some fifteen days later. and Loki knows there's but one or two things that can get him this anxious. As it turns out, it's both of these at once. "The first Jotun delegate will arrive tomorrow, brother." He reports, his face clouding a little. "But the humans will come the next day- they are also sending three, though I'm not sure whether all three will take part in your punishment. I believe Tony Stark is coming only out of curiosity." He seems amused by the idea. as if anyone could ever be curious about Asgard.

Loki does not want those miserable, weakling humans to see him like this. The embarrassment would be too much to bear, to be trussed up for their amusement and abuse, those short-lived insects. Besides, given a choice between the Jotuns and the green monster from Midgard, Loki is fairly sure he'd rather face all three giants together, and not contend with the other creature. Once had been more than enough. He gives no response, as usual, and Thor, also as usual, is pleased enough with only the sound of his own voice. 

He thinks that the night's ordeal is lighter than usual, and that worries him briefly, but worrying will hardly improve his situation so he puts it out of mind. He does put a lot of energy into making sure he is as physically well as he can make himself but the next night, though. Thor's palpable worry is distracting him, radiating and reflecting in his own tension, but he fights to ignore it. Being angry with Thor at least gives his mind something to do. He has to force himself to sleep during the day, carefully calm his body and his mind until exhaustion takes over. 

It doesn't help. Thor seems to be almost vibrating with tension as he attaches the chains that drag Loki up, the next evening. He is mercifully silent, however. and does not even greet the night's visitor as he enters. He doesn't really need to; the room becomes distinctly colder as Laufey's youngest son (older than Loki by some decades, if he remembers correctly) comes in. Unlike the Asgardian warriors he immediately walks around to face Loki, and his grin has nothing of warmth, and a lot of malice. 

"So, Liesmith, you face the consequences of your murderous actions." The Jotun is huge, as most of his kind are, his head almost reaching the roof of the cave. His cold blue-tinged face, framed by icy spines, shifts and twists in derision. "Brought so low, half-blood runt, not worthy of the glory of the Jotuns. If it were up to us, we'd kill you where you stand." He bares long, sharp teeth. "But it is not. So, we shall abide by your 'father's' orders." Somehow, his expression is not at all reassuring. He opens a box he has carried in with him, and Loki has to brace himself not to flinch back from the coiled whip it holds as the Jotun removes it and caresses it carefully. It's not leather, but appears to be some kind of metal, sporting many cruel-looking barbs. It glows red and black, hot and caustic and malicious, filled with evil intent. It screams of magic even to Loki's muffled senses, and it is a magic that is almost aware, and hungry for suffering. "We shall see how you like the Jotun way of punishing criminals." 

Thor is already on his feet to stop him, but the Jotun moves fast, and the whip uncoils with a whistle from his hand and strikes before Thor has taken more than two steps. And Loki's world is consumed by agony.

Every nerve is on fire with pain flowing through his mind, his soul. He feels the fire of it sinking into his bones, rivaled in his experience only by the vast death-cold of the Void between worlds, and its exact opposite, too: red-hot and all-consuming. He is dimly aware that he is screaming, a high, keening sound he has no control over as the agony ripples through him, radiating from where the whip struck, high on his back, to every part of him. Even his magic-sense hurts. When he regains awareness, heartbeats or aeons later, Thor is shouting, held back from attacking the Jotun prince by some unseen force- Odin's magic, Loki presumes through a haze of pain and uncontrollable trembling. 

"You're killing him! You've done your worst, now go! Go, before I free myself-" His struggles are futile, and the Jotun laughs. 

"I am not killing him. I am doing the most I can, short of killing him, and the least he deserves, given his crimes." He sounds obscenely calm, even smug. "This whip is used for those criminals who we want to suffer before they die. Our strongest warriors can take six strokes and recover. None have ever taken seven and lived. The traitor and murderer shall have three tonight, from me, and three more from each of my brothers, who will come one moon and two moons hence, as Odin has decreed. Save your energy, princeling. You will need it later. Even a runt like him can take three strokes, I will not kill him. Although," and Loki can hear the smile in his voice as the whip whistles down again, "I'm sure he'll wish I had."

What follows is a short interlude of the most excruciating pain that Loki has ever known. The Jotun is wrong in one thing- he is not so broken as to pray for death, although he yearns for the mercy of unconsciousness, which does not come. The second lash threatens to rip another scream from his throat, held back with all the energy he can muster, and by the third he has neither the voice nor the strength to scream again. He hangs on his chains, entirely focused on drawing breath and letting it out again without sobbing. He still cares that much about his dignity, that he refuses to yield any more than he already has. The Jotun laughs as he leaves, and Thor, who did not shed a single tear while the giant was in the room, weeps now as he lets Loki down carefully and lays him on the floor. 

Everything hurts. His muscles are still twitching in the aftermath of it, trembling. Even the roots of his hair hurt. He closes his eyes, trying to focus his mind and take stock. His mind moves a lot more slowly than he is used to, and he needs to pause and gather himself again and again. Beyond everything else, the lash cut him almost to the bone, the barbs tearing jagged cuts that he knows will scar, knows for a fact he won't be able to heal properly. These wounds are still bleeding, sluggish and not actually life-threatening, if he wasn't so weak from the magical part of the attack. A touch on his shoulder makes him flinch and cry out into the gag; even the light contact feels like fire, his nerves raw and scoured. It occurs to him that half the pain he's in comes from the scrape of his bedding against his front, from the air on his legs, from every breath going into his lungs. 

"Hush, brother. Don't move. I'm going to Father, you need a healer." Thor touches him lightly again, and Loki bites down on another moan of pain. "And they cannot be allowed to repeat this twice more. Not even once more."

His mind brushes against the thought of going through this twice more and shies away, unable or unwilling to contemplate it. He drifts, then, tries to let him mind wander and process, conquer his body's weakness. He has no idea how long it is before Thor returns, alone. He sits down next to Loki, reaches out to touch him again and Loki manages to twist away, growling as the motion sparks new ricochets of pain up and down his muscles. He doesn't try again, which is a mercy at least. 

"Father would not come, nor will he let me call for a healer." Thor sounds as is he's spent quite a while shouting: hoarse and tired, disheartened. It is not a tone Loki is used to hearing from him. "He says that as long as they do not kill you, and cause no permanent damage, he will not argue with their form of revenge. I'm sorry, brother."

Yes, Loki's sorry too, but unsurprised. Slowly fading into numbness (far too slowly, if you ask him; he welcomes the drift into apathy), he knows this is Odin's way to avoid war with Jotunheim, knows also that it is a small price to pay, to avoid war. He doesn't deserve to be healed, anyway. He closes his eyes and hopes Thor won't stay long, and that if he does stay, that he at least stays quiet. This hope fades as Thor speaks again. "I did bring you something, brother. But I can't give it to you yet."   
Then what is the point of it, Loki wonders in a vague sort of way, before Thor's finger on his shoulder draws him sharply back to the unpleasant present. He opens one eye, swallows hard, and finally sees that Thor is holding a small metal flask. "I managed to talk Idunn into giving me the juice of one apple. It won't be as powerful as eating the whole apple, but the juice will be easier for you, I think." He places it under Loki's hand, carefully folds his fingers to hold it. "I can't remove the gag, but when they come to feed you, drink it. Even if you can't eat, drink it." 

The metal is cool and smooth in Loki's hand, the swelling rush of gratitude in his chest almost as painful as the rest of him. He closes his eyes again, willing tears away with every last bit of stubbornness at this kindness. The juice will heal far more than he could heal himself, and might give him the chance to rest and even regain some strength before the next night. His fingers clench tighter around the flask, and he raises his head to look at Thor properly, hoping his expression again conveys what he wouldn't be willing to say, even if he could. Thor smiles gently, so he assumes it worked. 

"Will you be alright if I try- to make you more comfortable? To clean this-" Thor gestures ineffectually at Loki's back, and Loki shrugs minutely. It would comfort Thor to think he was helping, and he thinks he can stand being touched, now that the worst is over. Thor's touch is again gentle, hesitant when he notices the muscles tensing under his hands, but Loki finds he feels a little better, being touched. It gives him something solid to hang on to, with his mind still in turmoil, ready to fly apart at the smallest provocation. He holds still, lets Thor work, and even if there's truly little he can do to improve things, beyond what he's already done, it calms them both. He can feel the tension which radiated from Thor dissipate, and in turn, is calmer now as well. Thor lingers next to him afterwards, keeping him company, but not allowing him the privacy to curl up in misery, which is Loki's fondest wish now, until the silent attendants come to feed him, hours later. Only then does he leave, with a final lingering look back at him, full of compassion. Loki finds he can no longer hate him for this compassion, not when it makes life bearable, for the moment. 

The attendants allow him to drain the small flask, and watch, passive, as he takes advantage of the freedom of his tongue to heap every curse he knows, in several languages, on Jotunheim and all its inhabitants. The healing force of the magical apples is weaker in the juice than in the whole fruit, but still he feels a new vitality, energy flowing through him. His mind is refreshed, as well as his body, and though he still aches inside and out, he manages to eat and to heal himself more than he's been able to in many months, since the very early days of his punishment. By the time he is done, the cuts have stopped bleeding and receded into fresh scars, a dull throb that is echoed in his bones still. The thought of having to go through this twice more is still horrifying, but he is reasonably sure he will survive it. Now that his mind is fully functioning again, he realizes Odin's manipulation, and finds a reluctant smile on his face for the first time in months. Truly, the All-Father refuses to break his own declaration that he would not see Loki until his punishment is over, nor could he officially agree to let a healer help him escape the consequences of his crimes, but Idunn would never part with an apple only due to Thor's attempt at sweet-talking her. That he got the apple at all was proof enough that Odin had allowed it at least, and supported it, and also- if Odin truly wanted to deny him healing, Thor would never have smuggled the flask into his cave as freely as he had.   
Thor thinks he's clever, Loki knows, but he can't elude the All-Father or undermine him, even on this one occasion where it occurs to him to do so at all. No, Odin agreed to this, subtly. He could easily have let the Jotun kill Loki and be rid of the shame to his house, as well as having a perfectly good excuse to go to war with Jotunheim and finish what Loki had started, destroying them once and for all. But he is not using Loki as a pawn, for once. Not using this for political gain. Showing mercy, again. Loki is not sure what to think of this.

He is still weaker than he'd like to be the next evening, despite Thor's gift, still sore and drained, but he is standing and as steady on his feet as he can appear, when   
Thor arrives. The events of the previous day weren't quite enough to make him forget that the delegation from Midgard is due tonight, and he refuses, absolutely refuses, to allow them to see him brought low. Bad enough that he cannot disguise the marks of the past months, and that he must meet them wearing nothing but cuffs and a muzzle; he will face them standing, with his head high. He is surprised when only Thor comes in, and that he does not look happy. 

"How are you, brother?" He asks, looking him over in lieu of waiting for the verbal reply Loki can't give, as usual. "You seem better." He walks around him and starts to attach the chains to his cuffs, as usual. "My friends from Midgard are here. The Man of Iron, Tony Stark, the Hawk Eye, and the Lady Natasha, whom they call a widow though I understand she never married." 

On the bright side, Loki thinks as he contemplates those three taking their revenge on him, at least they didn't send the green one. Him, he has no wish to encounter again. Thor continues as he gets Loki into the familiar position in the center of the room. 

"They wish to view one night's punishment, to understand what is expected of them, and they have said that they will not all take part. Possibly only the Hawk Eye, as he has a personal grievance with you; he did not like having his mind stolen, it seems." Thor's tone clearly indicates that he is not surprised at this attitude. To be honest, Loki understands it as well. Although he does recall an exploding arrow, in that final battle, which he thinks more than repays any damage he might have done. But, arguing would be futile even if it were possible. "They will join me tonight, and they have promised not to speak, nor to approach you, until tomorrow evening." Thor adds, and cave wall behind Loki opens as it always does. Tonight, he can hear several pairs of feet shuffle in, followed by a feminine gasp and a low whistle. 

"You weren't kidding about any of this, were you?" Stark, of course, is the first- and only- to speak. The three humans take up a position at Thor's side, as the Asgardian warrior takes up his own position behind Loki. Thor presses a finger to his lips.

"You promised you will not speak, Tony Stark. It was one of the All-Father's conditions to your presence here. Be at peace, and silent."

"How can I be at peace with this sort of thing staring me in the face? It's mpppfff-" He's abruptly cut off when Thor's hand warps about his face and covers his mouth. 

Behind his gag, Loki can't help a small, vengeful smile at his affronted expression. Then the whip whistles behind him, and tries to pretend this is just any other night, and ignore his audience. It's harder than he expected; the beating is much like any other, possibly harder to bear physically, as his body is already strained by the Jotun's visit the previous night, but Loki finds it hard to focus on Thor while Thor is focused on his guests, who are focused on Loki. He studies them for a while- Barton stony-faced and silent, expressionless, Stark growing paler as the beating progressed, his fists clenched, the woman silent as well, her mouth slightly open before she notices and shuts it with a snap. If any of them derive pleasure from seeing him chained, exposed, beaten- they do not show it. In fact, Stark seems...sympathetic? No, surely he is reading the human's expression incorrectly. Finally, it is too disturbing to watch them, and Loki closes his eyes and lets physical sensation block out everything else. Somehow, it feels like the whole thing takes longer, tonight. 

Loki's eyes snap open when he hears something slamming into rock, followed by a curse. It seems that Stark has punched the cave wall, and it now cradling his fist in his other hand, swearing. The warrior behind Loki stops, radiating bewilderment. 

"I can't keep watching this shit." Stark looks...disturbed. Queasy, even- is he that weak-stomached, Loki wonders, or is it just his silly human sensibilities upset by the Asgardian idea of justice. "I'm getting outta here. Thor, buddy...I'll see you outside, ok?"

"If you are sure, friend Stark..." Thor seems as confused by this reaction as he usually is by complex mathematics but allows Stark to leave and the punishment resumes with no further interruptions until it ends. Apparently the warrior does not enjoy an audience either, because while it felt longer, the night's beating doesn't leave him bloodied, for a change; even the cuts left by the Jotun have not reopened. Thor explains to his friends, as he unties Loki, that tomorrow night would be their turn to do the same. Even Barton seems uncomfortable with the idea, and Loki scoffs in silence. His actions have wrecked a grand city and led to the death of...thousands, probably, and he knows they were irrationally upset by the whole thing, and yet these few so-called 'heroes' shirk from this form of vengeance. Loki   
knows the rulers of Midgard would've likely had him executed, if they could- if Asgard hadn't claimed first right to him. Maybe this is why Thor likes them so much, he thinks; they are much like him, in this. 

As they leave, Loki can hear the woman's voice, hesitant but steadier than Stark had looked. "Thor...why are you crying?"

He wishes they stayed long enough for him to hear the reply, but they do not.

He spends the day sleeping and pacing in the cave, unusually restless. The humans are a mystery to him, so small, short lived, yet Thor loves them and treats them as far more than they seem to be. They do not worry Loki as the Jotun did; he does not think them cruel, but their thinking has surprised him again and again. It's enough to unsettle him, this speculation about what they might do, and he is not tired enough to sink into a nice, numbing oblivion yet. Tomorrow, maybe, but not tonight. 

They troop in as they did the previous day, Thor and three humans. Stark is mid-rant as they enter, mid-sentence, and stops, seeing Loki standing there.  
"-And does he have to be naked for this?"

Against his will, Loki snickers into the gag. Of all the silly, minor details, this bothers him? Humans. Granted, he's not pleased to be seen so by these semi-sentient insects, but that they are equally bothered by it is amusing. 

"Father has decreed it so." Thor shrugs. "Jane has explained to me that humans generally frown upon people who go about unclothed. Here, clothing is for decoration or protection, and my brother deserves neither, for the term of his punishment. I trust he has nothing you have not seen before?" He, too, seems to be amused, and his grin widens when Stark flushes and protests that he wasn't even looking and has no idea what Thor is talking about. If nothing else, the humans are a pleasant interlude of hearing a voice besides Thor's, even if he cannot join the conversation. Thor motions for Loki to move so he can be chained, and Barton stops him.

"Forget those. I'm not about to hit someone when he's tied up." He seems almost angry. "Bad enough that he's like this."

"Clint, this isn't the time to be noble..." The woman says quietly, shaking her head slightly. She's eyeing Loki as if he may explode without notice, as if she still fears him. He revels in it, briefly, before focusing on Barton again. 

"Yeah, this isn't a fair fight, man. Just do what the screwed up self-proclaimed gods want you to do, and let's get back home." Stark agrees, still looking disturbed. "This place gives me the creeps."

"The chains are not for your benefit." Thor attaches them anyway. "Or rather, they are for your safety, as well as Loki's. To keep him from fighting back, which as he knows will bring Father's wrath down on his head." He gives Loki a meaningful look, and Loki keeps from flinching, just barely, at the memory of that awful, lonely month. "This is punishment for his crimes, true, but none expect him to stand there and take it, unrestrained, without defending himself or fighting back. He is still of Asgard, and we are a proud people. Often too proud, I'm told." He actually dares to wink at Loki, who is listening, quite dumbfounded, to this explanation. It has not occurred to him that the chains were to protect him from himself, and the others from his basic need to defend himself. The chains were for humiliation, nothing more...were they not? Meant to tie him down like a dog for others to amuse themselves with. That an Asgardian warrior would need protection against Loki's justified anger is an odd thought- not that he is not dangerous, even cuffed and gagged as he is, but that they realize he is dangerous still is...new. Almost pleasant to hear. 

He wonders whether he'd have taken any of the past months' abuse were he not chained every evening, and knows that no, he would not have. Given a choice, he'd prefer to be struck down by any warrior in a fight where he could fight back, however hopeless his cause, to this. Even now, knowing he would suffer for it, he would fight back. "Peace, brother." Thor's words pull Loki sharply back to awareness of his surroundings, and he realizes he's snarling through the gag, the sound muffled but enough to get the three humans looking quite worried. "They do not understand our ways. Of course you would fight back if you could, but you must not. You are still a prince of Asgard."

"Some prince." Stark scoffs, and Loki gives him the full benefit of a murderous glare. Stark stares right back. "You listen to me, you crazed bastard. Your daddy issues nearly got my favourite city in the world nuked, do you get that? There were hundreds dead, thousands more are only now getting back to a normal life, over a year after your little stunt with the alien invasion. But- and this is an important but- I don't think anybody deserves this kind of shit. Nobody. But if your dad-" Thor glares at him and he quickly amends "Great and mighty Odin, ok, if he thinks maybe there's hope for you yet, fine. By me, you got what's coming to you and more. Besides, I have the video of the Hulk swinging you around like a rag doll, and I can watch it as many times as I like, so I'm not really in a vindictive mood. My buddy Hawkeye, though, he has a personal grudge to settle."

"Funny, how I'm still pissed off about that, over a year later." The man in question steps up to Loki and gives him a distasteful look, which Loki returns with vigor. The human mind is so tiny, but it is all they have, so even Loki can see why he'd be angry, but that does not mean that he can pretend he does not mind the human hitting him. If he plans to hit him at all. Perhaps he would use one of his arrows? It would be new, at least.

No, apparently not. Loki sees the human tense, his fist clench, and has time to brace himself before that fist crashes into his face. For a human, it's no weakling, ineffectual slap, but though his head swings back from the force of it and he can taste blood where the gag has cut him, Loki does not blink. Barton, however, shakes his fist and wiggles his fingers experimentally. "Ow. I need to work around that metal thing, don't I? Thor, can you take it off?"

"I cannot." Thor shrugs and sniffles. A strange expression passed over the Hawk Eye's face, and Stark slaps his own forehead with an open palm. 

"Are you done yet?"

"No." He is more careful now, aiming above the gag and so his fist hits unpleasantly close to Loki's eye. Another slams into his middle, and this one does make him swing back, folding in on himself a little. Another punch, driving the air out of his lungs, and the human steps back and rubs his knuckles. "Now I'm done. If you ever get into my head again, I'll find out exactly what can kill one of your kind." He says the words without heat, a chill promise, and Loki believes him even as he knows the threat is unfounded and holds no real power over him; even if the human can find something capable of killing him, his brief lifetime would not be enough to use it. But the intent is clear enough, and he shrugs, acknowledging the human's opinion. There's blood in his mouth and he carefully allows some of it to trickle down his chin under the gag. Let the human feel guilt, if he already dislikes the idea of hitting a captive victim. 

"If you are finished, then we are done here." Thor says softly. "Unless you wish to take part in my brother's punishment, Lady Natasha?" He turns to the woman, who makes a face and shakes her head. 

"Not me. I think he's getting what's coming to him, but that's between him and your people. By Earth, I think that the fact that we 'insects' thrive and recover while he rots here is all the punishment we need." She gives him a scathing look, and then a head-to-toe searching glance, more piercing than even Sif had dared, as he contemplates the many ways in which he could kill them all. "You really believe he can come out of this and be a useful member of your society?" She sounds skeptical. 

"The All-Father believes it is so, as do I." Thor nods. "His deeds will be forgiven, if not entirely forgotten, and he will be given a chance to recover his honor and standing. I'm sure you can do it, brother." He adds in Loki's direction, full of nausea-inducing sincerity. Loki rolls his eyes and shrugs at the humans as best he can, with his arms restrained and the woman chuckles, though it sounds rather more like a snort.

"Even he doesn't believe you, Thor. I think you're hoping for far too much, but honestly, as long as he stays away from Earth Loki is entirely your problem." She gives the wall behind Loki a searching look. "Can we leave now? No offense to your hospitality, Thor, but it's probably been about a week on Earth, and leaving the others alone this long isn't a good idea." 

"Yeah." Stark is frowning, staring at Loki again. "I want outta here, I have actual work to do at home. You coming for a visit anytime soon, Thor?" They are already moving out, the rock shifting behind Loki, and he finds he is straining to hear more of their conversation, as banal and shallow as it is, because it is conversation, it's nice, pleasant, normal, and not directed at him. It is the first proper conversation he has heard in months, and the silence that fills the room in the humans' wake is oppressive, choking. 

It takes a long time for Thor to come to release him from the chains, and although in that time Loki heals himself, the impact of the visit stays with him. 

Midgardians may be insects, insignificant, short-lived gnats, but they remind Loki of real, verbal interaction, of companionship- the kind he could achieve with someone of near-equal intelligence. He remembers debates of history, myth, nature, metaphysics and magic, evenings of poetry and storytelling, all the things he found pleasure in, on Asgard. Things he has not known since Thor was banished to Midgard and Loki himself became King, that brief time. He wonders if those he called friends think of him, now and then, or shun even the thought of him; he has seen, heard and felt naught but warriors all these months. For the first time since his fall from the Bifrost, Loki remembers the better times with longing, rather than resentment. He thinks of the way things could be, might be, used to be, and the thought fills him not with rage and bitterness, but with yearning. This sudden weakness does not last long; Loki collects himself, holds on to the anger and resentment with both metaphorical hands, and knows, absolutely, that those days can never return. What friends he had left will want nothing to do with him, when he leaves here, and if they do...what then? His mind has gone entirely numb, these past months in the cave, and had been flayed raw by the Other, before that. He does not even know whether he is capable of the greater magics any more, and if he is, would Odin allow him to use them? He thinks not. The All-Father may claim to forgive him, but he will not be quick to forget the damage done. 

This does, however, prompt him to see just what his mind is still capable of. In the parts of his mind untainted by the Other, his vast store of knowledge that holds few emotions or hopes, he is safe. He spins tales, in silence, tries to think up witticisms and anecdotes, riddles and equations, but with no actual stimulus, he finds his tales turn melancholy and his wit falls flat. Equations come more easily, free of emotion as they are, and he spells them out with his fingers on the cave floor, leaving no marks behind but fixing them in his mind. This, at least, he remembers. The history and peoples of the Realms, the natural and metaphysical laws that govern their existence, he remembers also. It gives him something to hold on to, as the days go by and the punishment continues. For the entire month after the humans' visit, Loki ignores Thor entirely, ignores the beatings, barely remembers to eat or sleep, pleasantly occupied inside his own mind with the planning of elaborate machines, just to see that he still can. He refuses to come out of this ordeal an emptied husk, he will show then that his mind is his greatest weapon, and it will not be broken. He just needs to make sure that he does not, in fact, break. Circumstances be damned. 

At the end of another night spent working out the bone structure of a dragon and how it would best be applied to a flying machine, Thor unties him and, to Loki's extreme surprise, shakes him hard. Loki's eyes focus properly for the first time in days, and he glares at Thor, at his face (angry, lined with worry), and down at his hand (twisted in Loki's chains, holding him up on his toes), startled and irritated.

"Look at me, brother." Thor almost shouts it, but not quite. When Loki raises his eyes again, giving him a flat stare, Thor shakes him again, not quite as hard. "Do you wish to die, brother? Have you decided to give up?" 

The question puzzles Loki, because of course it is exactly the opposite, and he wishes Thor would stop shaking him like this, it's remarkably uncomfortable being thrown back out of his mind and into his body again. His body hurts, where his mind only aches with the limitation on his magic. He frowns, winces, shakes his head. What does Thor want of him?

"Do you know, it is the first time you have looked at me or at anyone in weeks?" Thor asks, still with one hand clenching Loki's chains and the other carefully brushing his cheek, above the strap covering it. Loki shudders, against his will, at the warmth of it. He notices that he is cold, as well as dizzy and trembling, now that he is fully aware of his surroundings again. "You have not eaten in eight days, you did not answer when I spoke to you, you haven't even blinked since I walked in this evening, Loki!" Thor continues in a strained, worried almost-shout. "The warriors fear that you have lost your mind. For the past two nights, Father has had to assure them that they were not exacting revenge on one already dead, you've been so cold and still." 

Loki's frown deepens, and he attempts to free himself from Thor's grip, only to find his muscles stiff and sore, weak from disuse. Moving hurts, and he wonders how long it has been since he last bothered to heal himself. Has he really been so lost in the depth of his mind as to neglect the physical entirely? It is possible, he admits to himself as sensory input threatens to overwhelm him, everything flooding in together. He is hungry, cold, in pain, and he knows he probably hasn't slept in a few weeks, too. Maybe the others were right to fear that he had lost his mind, or rather that his mind had lost him. He blinks, slowly, and motions for Thor to put him down. 

"Father has allowed me to stay here and make sure you eat, this time." Finally, Thor lets him stand, and his legs almost give out; he has to reach out and steady himself on the wall. "You are to say nothing to me, nor am I allowed to speak to you while you are capable of replying. Father says if either of us disobeys him in this, he will-" Thor hesitates for a moment, "he'll sew your mouth shut and leave it that way. So we'd best both behave, aye?" He tries to make light of it, but the threat is clear enough, and Loki nods. "Lie down until the food gets here, I'll help you wash."

He neither wants nor needs Thor's help, and his touch, gentle as it is, feels too hot, or too cold, too invasive, tearing into what little is left of Loki's privacy and dignity, but he is too tired to fight him off, and would not do it even if he weren't, as it might be seen as an attack. As unpleasant as it is, he forces his mind not to stray while Thor is there, allows himself no escape from the unpleasant reality. He takes stock of himself, cataloging the various untreated injuries, healing what he can with the energy he has left. He knows even food would not allow him to heal fully, and the knowledge worries him. How long has it been, he wonders- and how much longer until the next Jotun delegate comes calling?

As if reading his mind, Thor talks as he carefully pours warm, clean water over Loki's back. "I've been so worried about you, brother. I mean, you seemed content enough, which is strange in itself, considering your circumstances, but your eyes...Your mind wasn't here, these past weeks. I saw you weren't healing, or eating...I thought t was just an extended sulk, you know how you can get sometimes-" Loki opens one eye and glares at him, which for some reason causes Thor to grin, not at all the intended reaction. "But the Jotun delegate will be here tomorrow night, I was not sure it would be wise for you to continue not to heal, if he uses that whip on you again." This time both of Loki's eyes open, and he feels nausea curling in his empty stomach. Has he really lost nearly a full month? Would he have any time to heal before the next night? Most likely he would not, and fear makes his throat tighten and his heart pound in his chest. "You'll need your strength, Loki. You must take care of yourself. I can only do so much, if you would not help yourself." 

And still, Loki does not understand why Thor helps him at all, except that he is Thor, and acts foolishly as a matter of course. He concentrates on pulling himself together, on gathering his energy, on not letting the fear choke him. He would face the coming night as a prince, of Asgard or of the Jotuns, it makes no difference; pride is the point, and he will not cower in the face of any threat or attack. Thus resolved, he keeps silent while Thor watches, nervous as a mother hen, when his food is brought in and the gag removed. He eat it all, slowly, carefully, not taking the risk of overtaxing his body too quickly. It is gone far too soon, with no prospect of more before the next day, but he feels better after eating. Thor smiles tentatively. 

"Better, brother?"

His mouth half opens to protest, to declare again that they are not brothers, never were and never will be, before he catches himself and stops the words, not wanting to risk angering Odin further. His simply nods, with a half-shrug indicating that something, however small, was better than nothing in this case. Then, he jerks his head towards the cave door and makes a shooing motion with one hand. He needs to concentrate tonight, and Thor's calf-eyed stare is disconcerting. Thor shakes his head. 

"I will stay until you sleep, Loki. I want to be sure that you are resting, for a change, and not scaring your guards by sitting there and drawing invisible marks on the floor. Rest, brother. You'll need it." As the attendants gag him again, impersonal as ever, Loki shrugs, pretending this doesn't bother him, and turns him back on Thor, curling up on his pallet. He puts himself in a light healing trance, expanding all the energy he has to heal as much as he can, as quickly as he can. It won't be anywhere near enough to get him to where he needs to be to face the Jotun, but it's better than nothing. He sleeps, then, still ignoring the sound of Thor breathing across the room, and when he wakes, he is alone. He tells himself this doesn't bother him, either. He gathers his energy again, heals as best he can, and sleeps again. 

Thus, sleeping, healing, sleeping again, he gets little true rest and reaches the next evening magically drained, but at least his injuries are reduced to scars and deep muscle aches, with the surface of his skin whole enough that there are no open wounds to tempt the vicious magical whip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Jotun whip draws rather a lot on my Harry Potter past. Apologies to readers.


	5. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As fatigue and constant abuse start to wear him down, Loki starts to worry about the Other. Does he want a piece of Loki as well? Could he get it?

As it turns out, this helps less than he hoped it would. The Jotun prince comes in, and like his younger brother before him, he comes to face Loki, to taunt him. As he walks around Loki, he runs a chilly hand over the three long scars the whip left across his back, still jagged and livid despite the month that had passed; the touch is almost intimate, a caress of ice, and it takes an effort of will not to react to it, not to flinch away or shiver. The taunting is briefer this time, and Loki puts every bit of skill he possesses at lying into maintaining a neutral, careless expression, hiding his fear of the coming punishment. He fears it, and knows that it is entirely a rational fear, but the Jotun must not see it. Still, the blue face sneers at him. 

"You're pathetic, aren't you, runt? Look at what even Asgardians can do to you. You never were particularly impressive, but now you are even less so, a broken thing hanging by a chain. Ah, but you still have the anger to glare, don't you?" Apparently his expression isn't guarded enough, and Loki freezes his face, causing the Jotun to chuckle. "Such restraint, from a traitor and murderer. I've heard delightful tales from my brother of how he made you scream. I must match them when I return."   
Well. This gives him something to work towards, and he swears that this time, he will stay silent if it kills him. Never let it be said that Loki is anything but a stubborn bastard. 

He suspects, in a distant sort of way, that there is a cumulative effect to the magical whip, even with a month gone since it was last used on him. It certainly feels like it when his world explodes in agony again. He clenches his teeth hard enough to dent the gag, better prepared for the barbed lash now that he knows how it feels, but still overwhelmed by it, feeling tendrils of vicious magic draining his energy and sapping his strength, eating at his resolve. He does not scream.   
His silence angers the Jotun, clearly. The second stroke hits low, curling around his buttocks and wrapping around his hip, and his legs go numb for a blissful moment before sensation comes roaring back, and his mouth opens in a soundless scream, a final effort of will freezing his voice unheard. He does not feel the third stroke fall, as darkness comes up to engulf him, and he welcomes it, at last.

"Brother? Please, wake up, Loki, please-" Thor sounds frantic, his voice tugging Loki out of unconsciousness and towards what he knows will be a world of pain. He wants to stay away from it, but now that he's half awake, he is pulled the rest of the way up, unwilling, cracking one eye open. Even the dim light of the cave hurts like a knife, and he rolls his head away, grateful to have even that much control over his body. "Oh, thank the Spirits." Thor's hand is too hot on his face, far too hot, and he realizes that beyond everything else, which he refuses to think about, he is so, so very cold. Something drips on his face, burning, then chilling quickly against his skin. "I thought you would not wake. The Jotun has gone, most displeased with you." Is it at all possible that the big lout sounds...proud of him? "I knew you would not give him the satisfaction." 

Ignoring this background noise, Loki takes stock of his situation. He is lying on the floor, on his front, in what appears to be either icy water or blood or maybe some of both. Muscles in his legs and arms spasm irregularly, and when he tries to move fingers and toes, his limbs react slow and sluggish, as if it takes a long while for the thought to travel down to the muscles. Everything hurts and he feels like a limp rag. Raising his head seems like too much of an effort. But he is alive, and his mind, though it feels full of shards and his thoughts take a while to arrange themselves in a coherent order, is his own still. Not broken, only dented. 

"Loki!" Sharp and frantic again, and he opens an eye again. "You stopped breathing." Thor looks halfway apologetic, though still anxious. "You must keep breathing, brother, I know it must hurt, but you- just- keep breathing. Please?" 

He has no intention whatsoever of stopping, although now that Thor mentions it, it does hurt to breathe. It hurts to think.He forces himself to do both, somehow, until it becomes a habit again and Thor relaxes marginally. "Do you think you can move now?" It seems an absurd question, but Loki frowns, and wonders whether shifting expressions counts as moving, because that's about as far as he's willing to move. "Come, I will help you. You've been lying on the floor for a while." The question is clearly on his face because Thor elaborates. "The Jotun left about an hour after sunset last night. It is an hour after noon. I was so worried, brother, but Father said you were better off unconscious, and I was to leave you be and not move you until you woke. But now that you are awake, surely your pallet will be more comfortable than the floor?" 

Hours? Half a day, and still he feels like no time at all has passed. It does explain why he is so cold, at least. Loki notes, as he allows Thor to more or less lift him and carry him the few steps across the cave, that he has been cleaned, but by the time he is put down again the blood seeps, sluggish, from the wounds on his back, and Thor mops it away with a wet rag. He tries to reach for magic and heal himself, but finds only emptiness where the spark of his magic usually is. He is completely drained of energy, drained of magic, and that scares him deeply- what if this time, the magic does not return? What if the effect of the Jotun implement is too much for him to recover from? What happens tonight, when another warrior comes to take his revenge, and the next night, and the one after? He turns his head away from Thor, feeling every muscle, every tendon aching in the aftermath, and wishes only for sleep. Of course, this is something Thor will not allow, being averse to peace and quiet, for some reason. 

"Loki! You must stay awake, brother. You must eat and regain your strength. I have been given permission to stay while you eat again." Thor sounds almost cheerful at the prospect, and he strokes Loki's arm, ignoring or simply not noticing the pained shudder his touch elicits. "Do you think you could sit up? You can't eat lying down." 

The thought of any movement does not appeal, and the truth is that Loki is fairly sure he can't, in fact, sit up, if only because he doesn't want any part of his backside, knees to shoulders, touching the floor. He thinks wistfully of the juice of Idunn's apples, but knows it's unlikely that he'll gets a second flask. Odin may be merciful, but Loki doubts his mercy would stretch to a repeat of the previous month's gift of healing. Thor repeats his question, reaching now to pull him up, and he cannot stop a cry of pain as his body protests. He clenches his teeth and glares with all his might, though his vision is fuzzy at best. "I'm sorry brother, I know it hurts. I have spoken with Father, but he still won't stop the Jotuns from sending their last representative. I'm sorry." He repeats, and Loki closes his eyes, because even fuzzy, the earnestness on Thor's face hurts more than any beating. "You must eat." Gently, supporting Loki with one hand, so that he is resting on his side, Thor fiddles with the gag one-handed until it is loosened. "Can you feed yourself?"

If it kills him, Loki thinks, seething inwardly, the answer is yes. It's a slow, painful process to reach for a spoon, dip it in the bowl, and lift it to his mouth. His hand shakes, and every twitch of every muscle sends a sharp blast of pain to his joints. He isn't even hungry, but the glop in the bowl seems thicker than usual, and smells better, too. The first mouthful is soothing on his tongue, sweet instead of vaguely salty, and goes down his raw throat as smoothly as butter. He feels better immediately, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise as Thor grins.

"Mother brought it herself. I have a feeling she fortified your meal with a mashed apple, and maybe some herbs of her own choosing." He smiles, shifting Loki into a better position, making him hiss in pain. "Oops, sorry. Eat, Loki."

Loki eats, regaining some lost strength with every bite, concentrating on every spoonful to avoid thinking about Frigga's kindness, and the fact that Odin surely allowed this as well. Slowly, as slowly as he can, he savours the return of some sort of peace as he feels a weak spark of magic within his grasp again. It is barely enough to revive him, but it lifts his spirits, drawing him out of cold, numb despair, and allows him to breathe deeply without pain, which makes everything else easier to bear. The bowl is empty well before he wants it to be, but he is warmer when he's finished, not quite as weak, not as close to the edge of losing himself entirely. Even Thor's touch is a comfort now, rather than torture. He motions for Thor to let him go, though, his grasp of magic still too fragile to risk being in close contact with anyone while he works it, and the larger Asgardian put him down on his pallet again. Even with the boost in energy, he hasn't enough to heal completely, but he feels muscles mending, skin pulling together, not closed entirely, but enough that they won't reopen on their own, if he moves carefully. Completely depleted by this last effort, Loki sleeps. 

He wakes alone, chilled, with the gag covering his mouth again. That he did not wake when it was placed on him bothers him, makes him feel vulnerable in a way that the past months have not. He doesn't have the time to brood on this, as the noise which brought him awake is in fact Thor, coming in to prepare him for another night's punishment. For once, Loki is glad of the chains holding him up, for otherwise he is quite sure he would be facing the night on the ground, unable to rise from it. Even with this support, he knows he looks at least as awful as he feels, possibly even more so. The warrior who enters stops at the door, and Thor has to beckon him in. 

"I cannot strike him, Thor." Loki recognizes the voice, for a change- Orvar, an archer, swift and adept at his craft, who is a favourite in the feasting hall due to his excellent voice. He is not writer of great lays, but sings them very well indeed. He has often performed Loki's own ballads, giving them greater life, greater edge, than Loki himself could, for all his skill. Loki considered him a friend of sorts, once. "It would not be honourable. What has the Jotun bastard done to him?" There is quiet, deep anger in the warrior's voice. 

"Their idea of justice." Thor's rumbling voice echoes the anger. "It is your turn tonight, Orvar, but there has been no decree from the All-Father that you must hit Loki to take your revenge on him." There is some amusement under the anger. "Though I understand why most do it, he can be thoroughly aggravating, even tied up.And he has caused a lot of damage. But I'm sure you of all people can be creative in taking you revenge on him. My friends from Midgard have a saying, 'think out of the box', or something like that. I am not sure I understand which box, but I'm told it means to be creative. So, be creative. I'm sure Loki is entirely bored with being beaten."

Thor is surprisingly right, though boredom is hardly Loki's main reason for not wanting to be beaten tonight. He closes his eyes, not wanting to betray himself with a badly timed twitch which might show he's listening, or that he cares. He can't block his ears, though. 

"Interesting thought...Well, I'm sure I shall think of some way to punish Loki. We can talk while I think, can we not? Until I come upon a clever idea for it." Loki's eyes are closed, and he can't see Orvar's face, and his voice gives little away. Thor still sounds amused as he answers, however, which immediately puts Loki even more on guard than he was before.

"Certainly we can talk. I have not had a chance to catch up on news, these past few weeks, spending my evenings here as I do. Tell me, Orvar, how is it with the warriors?"

And thus it begins. Orvar tells of the warriors, and then of new manuscripts brought to the Great Library, about the feasts to celebrate the changing seasons and successful hunts and skirmishes, of new songs written and new tales told- without ever telling those tales in full. Thor seems to know some of the things Orvar mentions, because much of the conversation progresses with Orvar starting some tale or another, and Thor stopping him after one or two sentences, recalling how funny a joke was, or how witty a dialogue, without ever giving away the full details of what had happened. Orvar waxes eloquent about succulent fruit from Elfheim, the first stag hunt of the year, and beauty of dancers trying out new steps for the revelers to enjoy, about the snows, followed by the coming spring bloom. He even sings a single phrase of a new song, here and there, or quotes a verse of some new poem. It's a perfectly pleasant, convivial conversation which lasts hours.For Loki, it is pure torment.

Though he tries to block his ears, not to hear and not to care, he yearns for news of the world outside his cave. Trickster he may be, but Loki enjoys the finer things in life. Music, poetry, creature comforts, he used to delight in them, before everything fell apart, and though he denies it, he misses them. These tantalizing snatches of what life could look like were he not here, tease and frustrate him, hurting in a way no lash ever could, as he finds he cannot ignore the ache of longing to hear those songs, know those stories. He, Loki, who has always prided himself on knowing everything there was to know about everyone, on always being aware of the latest gossip and news, finds that he is now entirely outside the latest happenings, ignorant and quite possibly ignored. It's excruciating. Loki keeps his eyes closed and his face impassive while Thor and Orvar laugh and talk, hating them and himself and the circumstances, torn between fury that they are rubbing his face in what he's missing, and longing to have all these things again. The knowledge he never will have them, even when his punishment is over, burns in his mind. As if he would ever be accepted again; there was no place for him in Asgard any more, if there ever was to begin with.

"It's the third hour after midnight, Orvar. Have you thought of a way to take your revenge on Loki?" The change in Thor's tone draws Loki out of his loop of anger, self pity and misery. He hears the two warriors rising from the floor, and opens his eyes, surprised that Orvar's visit is over already. 

"I think I am fully avenged, Thor." Orvar replies, wry. He comes to stand before Loki. "Your seat in the hall awaits you, Loki, if you ever wish to claim it again. We miss your voice and wit at gatherings. Take your punishment as well as I hear you have been, end this madness of yours, and return to us. Some do still believe you can be redeemed. Take heart." He smiles, a genuine smile and the first Loki has seen from anyone but Thor in months which is not a malicious smirk. Not for the first time, 

Loki is glad that he is gagged, because he truly does not know what reply he could make to this unexpected sentiment.He is confused by the kindness in Orvar's voice, unsettled by his own response to it, the way his stomach churns and his head pounds with the effort it takes not to respond outwardly. For those few minutes until he is left alone, he wants nothing more than to be allowed back among his companions of old, to return to the life he used to have. Were he able to speak, he thinks he might have begged for it. The thought is troubling, to say the least. He is being worn down, his resolve weakened by months of punishment. He cannot let them win. 

But, a nagging voice in his head asks, what does he lose, if they win? 

The night's respite from physical violence is a blessing, for all that it leaves Loki in mental and emotional disarray. It allows him an extra night to recover from the Jotun's attack, and the energy to do so. He is still weak, and far from fully healed, but progress is being made, slowly. The month of neglecting himself is showing, and he feels weaker in mind as well as in body, his mental resolve crumbling temporarily into...He's not sure yet into what, but it is enough to worry him. The Other has not tried to invade his mind since his return to Asgard, and some hopeful, childish part of Loki hopes that he is being kept out by Odin's magical protection of the realm, but he has ever been a suspicious creature, and he does not fully trust Odin's protection- much less that it would be given to him freely. It is possible, he knows, that the Other is merely biding his time, letting Asgard wear him down until he is vulnerable again. To heal, Loki knows he must sleep, but in sleep he is most vulnerable to the Other's attacks. For a week after the second Jotun's visit, Loki walks a fine line, letting himself sleep only in snatches, eating and healing as much as he can. but it is never enough. He can no longer fully heal the results of a single night's punishment, not piled as they are on top of the previous scars. The damage done by the Jotun whip does not heal as it should, and almost every night sees the cuts reopening. Finally, Loki knows he must sleep, for even gods must have rest to gather energy, and his is dangerously depleted. The final Jotun visit looms ahead, and he knows he must be at his physical and mental best, as absurdly low as that 'best' currently is, to withstand it with dignity.

Briefly, the thought of somehow asking Thor to stay with him as he sleeps crosses his mind, and is brutally rejected. It's no more than a sign of how weak he has grown. It must be remedied. That night, after Thor shows yet another warrior out of the cave, Loki stretches out on his pallet and lets himself sleep.   
Nothing happens that day; he sleeps, and wakes after no more than the usual nightmares, better rested than expected. On the nights and days that follow, Loki makes and effort to regain his strength, sleeping, eating and moving around the cave when he is healed enough to move without too much discomfort. Night after night, he wakes from nightmares, but they are always memories of the Other. He is sure he would know, if the creature himself appeared in his mind. 

After two weeks of monotony, he finds that indeed, he remembers the frozen tendrils wrapping around his mind and soul quite well. Enough to know when the cold in his sleep is fresh and immediate, not a lingering memory. He jerks himself awake with a muffled cry, curled tightly against the cave's wall. The cold sensation is still there, he almost feels it around his shoulders, a vice grip on the back of his neck, radiating up and down to freeze him through. It hurts, more than he remembers it having hurt before, and instead of proper communication, all he hears is faint whispers, promising vile, terrifying things, but barely there. It's enough to turn his stomach and freeze his limbs for hours after the cold leaves and the whispers die away to silence in his mind. He manages, barely, to move and act normally when Thor comes that evening, not wanting him to notice and wonder. After that day, he does not sleep again for days, forcing himself to stay awake day after day, and sleeping again in snatches of one or two hours a day after that. His reserves are still dangerously low, magical energy harder to reach as unhealed injuries pile up and lack of sleep depletes him further. Brief, nervous sleep is little help, but Loki finds that his natural resilience holds him in good stead now, and even that is enough to allow him to get through the nights of punishment and the days of constant worry. He finds that of all the prospects for his future, being a pawn for the Other and his Master again is the one he hates most, the one he might be willing to accept other, less terrible fates in order to avoid.

It takes Thor well over a week to notice that Loki is looking worse and worse, and he returns after escorting the evening's visitor out- an old, grizzled swordsman tonight, one of Odin's guards and one of the few in Asgard Loki is willing to admit might have a genuine grudge against him, seeing as the man was one of his chief targets for pranks since childhood. Loki hopes the grudge has been well and truly put to rest; after several long hours under the lash, he feels battered and exhausted and wishes he could rest. Thor's return means he must postpone his first attempt at sleep for the night, though, and he does not bother to hide his displeasure with the prolonged visit. 

"You are not healing as you should, brother." Thor tells him, worried and unconcerned with his own statement of the obvious, which Loki finds disgusting. As he can hardly reply with the appropriate amount of scorn, he shrugs. "You are eating again, I have checked with your guards, and you have healed from worse punishment   
than you've had, these past few weeks. So, there is something wrong. Have you not been sleeping?" 

Loki gives him yet another flat stare, giving nothing away. Thor shakes him again, not hard but enough that he feels it. He glares through narrowed eyes, but Thor only sighs. 

"You have not been sleeping. Brother, the final Jotun delegate comes in three days. You must be strong enough to face him, you must. If he kills you...I fear Father will not be fast enough to stop him, for all his might." Thor glances upward, a little guiltily, which Loki would normally find amusing, but he sees nothing funny in it now, with his life on the line. "I will ask Father for permission to sit with you today and make sure you sleep."

Loki shakes his head in silent resistance, but Thor ignores him. When Odin refuses to let Thor stay with him, it's more a relief than a disappointment. If Thor's presence can chase away the nightmares, keep him safe from the Other, Loki doesn't want to know. He doesn't want this potential dependence rubbed in his face. Things are bad enough as it is. When he jerks awake, shouting into his gag and shivering violently with cold that entirely inside him, he is grateful that Thor isn't there to witness this further humiliation. The whispers in his mind become clearer and stronger that night, but he still can't make out the words. The sense of cold dread lingers, though, overwhelming his senses to the point where he hardly even feels the beating that night. He does not consider that a silver lining; given a choice, he would take a whipping any day over this pervasive, deadening, soul-numbing evil chill. Thor gives him worried looks again, but purses his lips and says nothing, for a blessed change, and leaves Loki alone for the day when it's over.

He doesn't sleep that day, pushing himself past fatigue, having decided that not sleeping leaves him in a better state than sleeping, if sleep involves the Other's forays into his mind. He has not yet tried to attack him awake, and Loki hopes against hope that his conscious awareness can stop such an attack, if it come. He knows he's leaving himself weaker, more vulnerable to the final visit of a Jotun prince, but those attacks are by now a known quality, and he is almost sure they won't kill him or tear his mind apart, which he is not at all sure the Other won't. He fears unconsciousness, however, more than he fears sleep; at least he can wake himself as necessary, when he sleeps. These thoughts keep him company quite unpleasantly through the day, and into the next evening, where Thor again looks at him, worried, tearful when the lash falls again and again. Loki ignores him, as he ignores the warrior behind him, taking the beating in silence, as always. The warriors of Asgard are laughable compared to the Other and his Master, as far as threats go. It would almost be funny, if it were not so intensely terrifying. 

Thor almost stays with him, that night after the warrior leaves. "The Jotun comes tomorrow, brother. You must rest, and I can tell you have not. I will sit with you tonight, no matter what Father says, because I will not be here tomorrow night."

Well. This is an unpleasant surprise, and Loki must give away something, in his expression or a sudden twitch of his fingers, because Thor continues. 

"I must escort a group of traders to Elfheim, Father has ordered it. I argued, I wanted to be here to help- after the Jotun, you might need-" He trails off and shrugs. "You know. In any case, Father refused, and I must leave as soon as the Jotun is done. You'll just have to hang in there, until my return." He seems worried, and Loki scowls behind the gag. He can handle himself, he does not need Thor's help- especially after a night with the Jotun whip, with every touch of Thor's hand like a brand on his skin afterwards. He would manage on his own, thank you very much. The fact that it'll be the last time is one tiny ray of light in his fairly dark prospects, and he knows he can do it. Whether he can do it with his mind and dignity mostly intact, well...Best not to speculate ahead of time.   
Thor does sit with him, and Loki does sleep- but this time, even Thor's presence cannot keep away the malicious whispers. Loki is exhausted enough that he does not wake himself, this time, and the cold, dry sibilants finally coalesce into words he can understand- and wishes he could not. 

_I will get you, you miserable, useless worm_ , The voices promise, slithering into his mind to freeze his blood, _When you are at your weakest and worst, when even Odin's protection can't defend your mind, when you have no energy to defend yourself, I will take you and tear you apart. You will suffer for your failure, agonies you cannot even imagine without going mad. When I am finished, you will be no more than dust, and still aware, a cloud of particles screaming forever, my plaything until I tire of you. The might of Asgard can't protect you, foolish, incompetent princeling. You are already lost, only waiting for me to act._ The words repeat over and over again, detailing exactly what the Other and his master plan to do with him, and Loki tries desperately to wake himself up, to escape the threats- no, these are promises- that may undo him before the Other even starts his work. 

He finally wakes, so paralysed with fear and cold that he cannot even cry out- which is good, as Thor is right there, his hand burning on Loki's cold arm. "Brother?"   
Loki turns away, curls up and tries to pretend he is not trembling. Thor continues to stroke his arm in silence, a bright anchor of heat that radiates from his arm to the rest of him, and banishes the cold and the fear for a few hours, until Thor leaves so Loki can be fed. The nightmares do not try to catch him awake. Not yet, at least. 

Tomorrow, he may not be so lucky. Tomorrow he knows he will be weak, injured again, drained by the Jotun whip, and without Thor's protection, at the time when he might need it most, as much as he hates to admit it. He eats all he can. and heals as best he can, savoring the tingle of magic at his fingertips. Only tonight, and he would be free of the cursed Jotuns. Only tonight, and after that he'll know he is safe from the Other- or he would not be safe, and nothing would matter much anyway. He can't imagine caring too much, as a cloud of dust at the Other's mercy, but this is an unpleasant thought, and he does not linger on it. Sunset comes far too soon.


	6. Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It might be his darkest hour, but all is not lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This gets kinda graphic and disturbing, be warned. Frost giants are creepy assholes.

He faces the Jotun prince on his feet, head held high and proud as Thor attaches his shackles to chains again. The Jotun- Laufey's second son, now next in line to the Jotun throne after his eldest brother who is now king- is even bigger and more chillingly brutal in demeanor than his brothers. This one is centuries older than Loki, coldly vicious, and it is not the first time that Loki has tangled with him. Loki can feel the whip almost before the Jotun enters, his still-healing scars tinglingת as if calling out to the implement that created them. 

"Loki Liesmith, traitor and murderer, destroyer of my realm, through your hatred and carelessness." The Jotun sounds almost amused at this litany of destruction. "Were it not directed at us, we would applaud your perseverance and ability- but it was, and so, we have made and will make you wish you had never returned from the Void. You upset my brother terribly when you remained silent, and even more so when you dared to lose consciousness. I have taken steps to ensure this would not happen, tonight." With that, the Jotun reaches into a pouch at his belt and blows a light blue dust at Loki's face before Thor can stop him. Loki inhales the dust, startled enough that he can't avoid it, and feels every nerve wake to life, his limbs tingling with increased awareness. He is awake and sharply aware of everything, every sensation more defined. Thor pulls the Jotun around hard, angry and concerned.

"What have you done, you- You're not allowed to use magic!"

"Oh, but I am." The Jotun smiles, sharp as an iceberg's edge. "And this will not harm him. It will simply prevent him from passing out, no matter how much he may wish it. It will enhance every sensation, make the pain all the more excruciating, but he will be forced to bear it, and feel it, in its entirety. There shall be no escape into oblivion this time." His calm satisfaction turns Loki's stomach almost as much as his words do, but he forces himself not to react. He does not react when the Jotun touches him, either, though the sensation of sharp claws playing over his back, his shoulders, his rear, is intensely uncomfortable. The claws leave a sting behind them, like a faint burn, and Loki wonders if they are coated in something, or if the Jotun is cutting him, scratches so shallow they don't even bleed, but will show nevertheless. He cannot tell, and Thor's reproachful, worried stare tells him nothing. The claws linger over the scars left by the previous princes' visits, stroking them intimately, yet lightly, studying them. His other marks are also explored, welts and bruises, the scarred places he hasn't had a chance to heal. The powder he inhaled is working; he feels every touch more intensely, and it feels like a greater violation than any he's been subject to so far, these unwanted caresses. 

"Enough." Thor's voice is tight with barely suppressed fury. "Do not toy with him. Get it over with."

"He is here to be punished, and I am here to punish him." The Jotun does not stop, his reply calm as ever. "Within Mighty Odin's rules, I may do as I please, and for now it pleases me to see the results of these past months, of my brothers' visits, and plan exactly how I am going to add to this canvas, to create an undying work of art." He pinches Loki's rear, hard. "He is almost perfect, save that he is not yet bleeding. But that can be remedied." Swift and sudden, his claws trace again the half-healed marks left by the previous two encounters with the Jotun whip. Pain flares bright behind Loki's closed eyes, hot and cold at once, and he feels blood seeping down his back where the Jotun sliced open the wounds. Thor's cry of warning and anger goes unheeded. "Now, he is ready. Prepare yourself, Liesmith. I will enjoy making you scream." 

He will not scream. Loki vows this as the Jotun raises the whip high, the malicious magical presence curling above him rising and then whistling down. The lash bites down, metal barbs tearing into the cuts the Jotun made, eagerly sending tendrils of magic into Loki's very soul. 

He hasn't even the breath to scream. There is nothing but pain, his everything flooded with it, every sense overwhelmed, magically over-aware of it all. He sees pain, tastes and smells and hears it- and does not scream. 

An eternity after, he realizes there was only one lash- and that the Jotun is still standing there, arms crossed on his chest- waiting? 

"I wish for you to be fully aware of each lash at it falls." Comes the explanation when he sees Loki's eyes are focused on him. "Feel it tear your flesh and your mind. I have hours , there is no need to rush this. I will make you scream yet." 

Loki hurts, and longs to send his mind spinning away, but he dares not. Unconsciousness will not embrace him, with the magic powder in effect, and if he seeks it himself, the Other will surely be waiting. He has no choice but to hang in his bonds and persevere, using his full reserve of stubbornness to keep his expression blank and his eyes closed. The wait for the next stroke to fall is only further torture, his muscles twitching with the after effects of the first one, blood slowly drying on his back. Whatever vile magic the whip stores is still taking its toll on him, his remaining strength being stripped away from him. He has just enough warning when the whip comes whistling down again to brace himself, and it's a good thing he does. He arches forward in agony, a diagonal line of white heat laid down his lower back to his buttocks, and bites the gag hard enough to add an aching jaw to his litany of pain- but still he does not scream. Only a choked, muffled sound forces its way out, and Loki is disoriented enough to be unsure whether it was Thor or himself who made it. The room spins wildly around him, a nauseating tilt of floor and ceiling, and for a while again he is aware of nothing but pain, etched upon his mind. Breathing hurts, and he thinks he may have stopped for a few minutes, but even then, he cannot lose consciousness, and a hard push from the Jotun prods his lungs to work again, his breath coming ragged, stuttering in fits and starts. Slowly, too slowly, sensation spirals down until it is focused on his back, the rest of him only shuddering with the after-effects, but no longer actively shrieking with sensory overload. Loki finds that he is hanging in his shackles, his legs limp and unresponsive. He tries to get them under him, force them to bear his weight, but they refuse, and after a moment's futile twitching and swinging, he gives up the attempt as too humiliating to continue. 

Time ticks by, counted in the slow, steady drip of blood to the floor, and the skittering tap of the Jotun's fingers on the cave wall as he waits, watching Loki with an almost sensual interest. Loki ignores him, ignores Thor, ignores everything except himself. Surely it can't be much longer, he will not, cannot wait out the night like this, dreading the final blow. Hours pass- at least two, though it feels much longer, but Loki's time-sense is as sharp as all his other senses now, and he knows the hour is not much before midnight. Surely the Jotun will not drag this out until the third hour, the limit of his punishment time. It's exquisite torture, constantly on alert despite the physical exhaustion that comes with the whip's aftereffects. Loki wonders, in a distant sort of way, whether the final blow might kill him after all, despite Odin's command, or leave him crippled. 

No. No, this he will not allow. He refuses to die here, chained in a cave and beaten like an animal. He will not give this Jotun the pleasure, the renown, of ending his life here. Anger bubbles up from under the numbness and gives him the strength to get his feet on the ground and force them to hold him up, trembling but steady enough. Despite the gag, his lips stretch back, baring his teeth in a defiant snarl. The Jotun snorts in derision, but otherwise does not react. He does not raise the whip again. Instead, he plays with it, running it through his fingers, casually licking the blood off one barb. Loki closes his eyes as Thor gasps and chokes out a curse. 

"You- you vile- unworthy- you-" Loki does not look, but from the noise in the room he thinks Thor is again being held back by magic. The thought takes a while to form in his brain, and keeps scattering into fragments. He desperately wants this to be over. 

Two hours. Three. Thor is quiet now, the silence oppressive and smothering. Even anger takes up more energy than Loki can gather. He's startled when Thor rasps out, "It is two and a half hours past midnight. Finish what you came to do, and be gone, or leave with the task unfinished."

"Have no fear, little prince. I will finish my task before my time is up." The Jotun straightens from where he'd been leaning against the wall, and comes up closer to Loki. "Still defiant, Liesmith? Or are you finally ready to scream for me?"

Loki is not, but readiness has little to do with it, as the whip cracks down for the third and final time. It lands hard, and Loki finds that yes, it can in fact get worse. 

Barbs rip into his skin, and he shrieks, twisting and writhing in his bonds, lost to anything but the agony of it. He can hear the Jotun laughing, hear Thor half-sobbing, half-screaming curses at the Jotun, can hear himself, failing even in this, breaking under the relentless pressure. It's one single cry, but it is enough to have failed. Still laughing, the Jotun is escorted out, and Loki hears nothing more, not even himself, not Thor- just silence. 

He is aware when silent attendants release him from the chains and lay him down on the floor. They are deaf, and he doesn't care that he whimpers when they move him. They are mute, and cannot tell of his humiliation. He feels his pulse, slow, unsteady, and the agony pulses with every reluctant beat of his heart. He is awake, aware- but only of his own body. Any thought more complex than hurts scatters, unformed, and even those shards of thought hurt. He floats, unable to work up any thought or emotion, for hours. He may not be alone in his mind, but he can't tell for certain, his grasp on himself being tenuous at best. After hours, his mind finally condenses on a thought that holds for more than an instant- that the Other, if he has indeed invaded his mind, might be feeling what he feels now. If so, it explains why he has made no move yet; he's not the type who'd want to cut short one torment for the sake of another, and he has nothing but time. The attack will come, sooner or later, and if it kills him...At this point, he thinks he would almost welcome death. Not ask for it, certainly not beg for it, but he wouldn't resist dying overmuch, either. 

He does not hear the rocks move, nor the footsteps of someone entering. He only notes that there is someone next to him when cool fingers rest against his neck, drawing a startled and pained moan from him. He doesn't open his eyes- it can't be Thor, Thor's away, therefore it must be one of his attendants, and he does not care. 

"Shh, my child." It takes a moment for the words to penetrate, and longer to connect the voice to the speaker and to the meaning of the words, here, now. Realization, when it comes, is enough to make him open his eyes, slower than he wishes to, and blink in the low light. In the time it takes him to do this, quick, efficient fingers have gently removed his gag, and he lies there, eyes and mouth open in silent shock at the last person he ever expected to see here. "Oh, Loki, what have they done to you? What have you brought upon yourself?" A careful hand smooths hair away from his face, strokes his cheek, and he closes his eyes again. He does not want to look upon her face, even now, even here. He shivers, with more than just cold and pain, as she strokes his cheek again. "Oh, my child." 

The touch of her hand is as familiar as Thor's, maybe more so- the hand that soothed away childhood nightmares, that taught and guided, the one who always supported him, who never ridiculed him. The one person in Asgard he truly missed. He cannot bear that touch now, it's more than he can stand, and he tries to pull away with another inarticulate protest, surprised to find that he can form words if he wishes, and have someone hear him. But he must not speak, surely; Odin has decreed it. He has no strength to move away from her, but she does not speak again, nor touches him, and when he hears her stand and move away, he risks opening his eyes again, just a little, just enough to see if she is truly there and not some figment. 

No figment, it seems. Frigga has her own special gliding walk, her touch, her scent, that Loki does not think his mind could fabricate, not even if he was truly as insane as some think him to be. The only mother he has ever known. He thought his humiliation was complete, but to have her see him like this, beaten and broken, shames him to his soul. She pities him, and he can't bear her sympathy, because he can't hate her, despite everything. Not her.

"I may not heal you fully, but I can help enough that there will be no permanent harm." Her voice is calm, restrained, and he notes the tension it masks only through long familiarity. "Scars will remain, of course, but with a few days of rest, you will recover." As if he can get any rest, with another warrior, another beating, just hours away. He isn't even sure what time of day it is. He smells healing salve, feels Frigga's hands on him again, gentle. "Be still now, child. This will hurt." As ever, she is honest when it comes to healing. Loki grits his teeth and tries to remain silent as she cleans him up and spreads the healing salve on his wounds, from neck to knees in a thick, even layer. It burns, and Loki can't quite hold back another pained sound, even as he knows that the salve is doing its job, drawing out the lingering traces of the foul whip. Relief is not immediate, not by a long shot, but at least he does not feel any worse. He is desperately cold, and knows it's not the only reason he is still shivering, but at least the cold lets him pretend. "There. Your own magic and time must take care of the rest." Frigga strokes his hair again, and he flinches, unable to stop himself. "Look at me, Loki."

His eyes are closed again, and he shakes his head, muscles protesting the motion, and turns away. She kneels next to him, his tone more commanding now.   
"Look at me, my son. If only to prove that your mind it still your own, look at me. Now." 

Defying her is much, much harder than defying Odin. Against his will, Loki's eyes crack open, and look up at the Queen of Asgard. She looks at him, it feels like she is staring into his soul, and she does not smile. 

"Did you know that something is trying to take hold of your mind?" She asks almost casually, and he can feel her gathering her power. "Begone, creature." The words are quiet, but their impact is a flashing burst of noise and light, like an explosion inside Loki's mind. Through the static that follows this explosion, Loki can hear Frigga chanting as she channels more power through him. And then it all ends. 

When Loki comes to, there is a hand running through his hair, and his head in resting on something soft, familiar and comforting. He isn't as cold as he was, and though he still aches all over, it does not go all the way down to his essence any more. A heavy weight seems to have fallen from him, and he isn't sure what has changed, until Frigga speaks. "The being that was trying to control you. I believe I have banished him for now, but he may try again. Your shielding is less than it should be, my son. We taught you better." 

The words make no sense to him, he can't grasp the meaning, so he grabs on to the one thing he can respond to. His voice is scratchy from lack of use, but the words are clear enough. "I'm not your son." 

"Tsk." The hand stops, resting warm and light on his head. "Not the son of my body, perhaps, but the son of my heart- and I am the only mother you have ever known. Deny your brother if you must, though you break both your hearts doing it; deny Odin, if you will not call him father- but remember that I saw you kill Laufey to save Odin, and ask yourself, who is your father in truth? But, my son, do not deny me. I love you as I ever have, as my own child. Even if you are in a world of trouble." Her tone changes with those last words, from slow and formal to wry, and Loki's breath catches in his throat. "You may speak today, if you wish. The All-Father knows you have never been able to sway me with words, there is no fear that I would help you escape. Although...I do not believe you want to escape, do you?"

"Where- would I go?" The words are shaky, his breath still stuttering in his chest, his voice rough. He hasn't thought of escape in weeks, maybe months. 

"An excellent question." Frigga shifts, nodding maybe, and he realizes his head is on her cloak, which is spread on the ground, leaning against her leg. "Think on it."

Loki says nothing. He can't find the words, nor can he define clearly what he wants to say. Perhaps, he thinks after a while, he truly has nothing he can say to her, despite the feeling of something bubbling in him, growing too big to contain, too dangerous to be encompassed in mere words. But dangerous to whom? To distract himself, he wonders which warrior will visit him tonight, and where the silent attendants are, who will send Frigga away and end this strange interlude. How can he take another beating? The salve has been absorbed by his skin, but even cleansed, his back is torn and cut, the pain still relentless, and he can find no power in himself to heal the damage even a little. No attendants come, and after a while he shifts carefully, and raises himself as best his can on his arms to look at Frigga properly for the first time since she entered. 

She is still beautiful. Tall, commanding, ageless where Odin shows his age, radiating power. He cannot look her in the eye, and turns away, flushing in humiliation, after a mere second. She doesn't force him to look at her again, at least, but she must read the question in his face. 

"Your attendants won't come today. As Thor is away, I have requested this day with you- and the night as well. I have as much right as any warrior to punish you for what you have done, and greater right than some, if you ask me." Her tone is acerbic, and Loki swallows hard past a sudden lump in his throat. To have her turn against him as well...His eyes sting and he keeps his face away from her, fighting for self control. "It will be sunset soon, and we shall take care of that unpleasant business then. For now, my son, you should eat." 

He has no appetite, not that he usually has these days, but he finds he cannot think past the fact that his m- that Frigga wants to be avenged against him as well. The thought makes bile rise in his throat. He shakes his head and tries to rise to his feet, only to find himself sprawled on the floor when his limbs give out under him. Frigga 'tsk's again, and silently helps him to rise again, and lays him on his pallet. Even this small effort leaves him dizzy, gasping in pain and shaken, and he feels   
Frigga's hand on his hair again. 

"You must eat at some point, to regain your strength. But it can be later, I suppose." 

Struggling against himself, Loki forces out the words. "How long 'til sunset?"

"Not long." She sounds unworried, calm and pleasant, and her fingers return to his head. He pulls his head away from her sharply, and she sighs. "Why do you insist on making things harder on yourself, my complicated son? Learn to accept comfort as you accept punishment, as your just due. You deserve one as much as you deserve the other. You are hardly alone in the world, but you push away all who would help you. It saddens me greatly, Loki. And your father." 

"Not my father." He bites the words off more clearly than any others he has said tonight. "Never my father. Never his son." His voice cracks and he stills, breathing as deeply as he can. 

"The father who saved your life, as you saved his." Frigga's logic is as damning as it is inescapable, but Loki shakes his head stubbornly, refusing to even consider it.   
"Enough, child. Hush now. Sunset is but minutes away." 

This is not welcome news, but getting it over with would be a relief, would it not? Loki remembers that he had the same thought two nights ago, before the final Jotun's visit, and considers that, if the worst is truly over, he does not know whether he can ever go back to being what he once was, after this. Perhaps getting it over with would not be best, after all. He counts the seconds, exhaustion sweeping over him in waves, and realizes suddenly that he is no longer under the effect of the Jotun's magical powder, and that if Frigga has truly banished the Other, then he could sleep now. But first, he must let Frigga have her vengeance. 

"On your feet, my son." Frigga's voice is quiet and serious. It's a struggle, but with her help, leaning partly against the cave wall, Loki gets to his feet and stays on them, unsteady and dizzy, but standing. "Good." She looks him full in the eye, as tall as he is, and this time he can't escape her eyes. She holds his gaze until his sight is blurred, her hand gripping his chin and holding him in place. She shifts her grip to his shoulder, and with her other hand slaps him across the face, hard. "For the pain you caused your father." Her hand flies back, striking him backhanded, "And your brother." A third time, hard enough to knock his head into the cave wall behind him. "And me, my foolish, vengeful, beloved son." 

She kisses his forehead then, and only her grip on his shoulder is holding him up, as his face and eyes and throat all sting together, and the bubbling in his chest expands beyond his ability to contain it and bursts out of him in a harsh sob as his knees fold and he sinks to the floor. Kneeling, he folds in on himself, a wordless sound of sorrow, pain and anger stifled by one fist held against his mouth. "There, now. I have you, my Loki." Gentle hands draw him up and enfold him, and though it hurts, he ignores the pain and lets himself bury his face in her robe as any attempt to control himself flies out the window, and Loki cries, as he has not in all these many months, letting out everything he cannot find the words to express. There is pain in it, loneliness, fear and sadness and regret, but also anger and hatred and longing, mourning for something that was and can never be again.Everything he has been through since that day on the Bifrost comes pouring out, wordless, shaking him to the core, leaving him drained and empty. 

He thinks that many hours pass before he is aware of himself again. His face is sticky, his eyes hot and dry, his head throbs. His face is still pressed into Frigga's shoulder, her hands carefully stroking his head, and he takes a deep breath and lets it out, slow and steady. 

"Better now, my son?" He feels the vibrations in Frigga's voice, notes that she does not sound entirely steady either, and finds himself horrified that he has made her cry, shocked enough that he pulls away sharply and sways, light-headed as he straightens and stops with a cry as his wounds make themselves felt again. Frigga is somewhat damp-eyed, but smiling at him, the loveliest thing he has seen in months. He can't find it in him to smile back.

"I...I don't know." He answers honestly. "I'm so tired." 

"I can but guess at just how tired." Frigga nods. "How long has that thing been lurking in your mind?" 

"Long." He shudders. "Since- since I went over the Bifrost. I allied myself with it, it- it saved me, in the Void." Just thinking about it makes him cold again. "I would have fallen forever, if it had not caught me." But having caught him, the Other had kept him. "He'll try again."

"Probably, but next time you will have better shielding, and someone to catch you if you fall. For now, you are safe. And you should eat."

Safe. He hasn't felt safe in what seems like years. Not since he'd discovered his true parentage. Loki shakes his head, still mystified by it all, disbelieving. "I don't think I can."

"You must." Frigga us implacable as ever. "It will help. Here." She holds out bowl and spoon, and he has no real choice but to take them. As before, the first mouthful is an effort, but again he finds that the gruel is fortified with the magical healing apples, and by the third spoonful he feels much better, less tired and downcast. 

Again his eyes blur with tears, and he blinks them away quickly, making a mental note to thank Idunn, discreetly, when he is finally allowed to leave here. Frigga smiles again, watching him, and he scowls in reply, but eats every last scrap of gruel. He does miss real food, he notes to himself, but that is small concern compared to everything else. 

"There is not long now, my son." Frigga says when he is done eating. "A year and a day are nearly over. In less than three turns of the moon, you will be free- if warriors keep coming forward claiming the right to vengeance, of course."

"So many claim the right whom I have never spoken to." A trace of bitterness leaked into Loki's voice. Some warriors might have a justified grievance against him, but the others, as he sees it, only want to hit someone who cannot fight back. It galls him to be at their mercy like this. "They do seem to be overly upset about the damage done to their greatest enemies and to a people of little or no consequence. Who among the warriors of Asgard cared about Earth, before Thor was banished there? We have been out of touch with them for centuries and more." 

"They care about the reputation of Asgard, which you have tarnished with your behaviour. Your reckless actions have made beings in other realms fear and hate the people of Asgard, and caused endless trouble to our diplomats and warriors as far away as the furthest outer Realms." Frigga informs him, gently yet firmly. "Most of them may not care that some giants are dead, and their realm damaged, or that a human city was attacked, but they do care that they, as a people, are being painted with the same brush as you. Being able to say that they personally took part in making sure you never do something like this again allows them to defend the reputation of Asgard. And makes them feel better, most likely. The All-Father chose your punishment well- this way everyone is quite sure you are being duly punished, without him having to execute you for your crimes." Her words are calm and quiet, but he can hear the slight tremor in her voice at the thought of him being executed, and huffs a sigh. It is an interesting perspective, but not one he has the energy to explore, tonight. 

"I would not wish for death." He admits, and knows it is true despite everything. "But Odin may be too optimistic, for a change." If he says any more, it will be too much, and so he stops, and waits. He wishes he could rest now, but another visit from Frigga is unlikely, and he enjoys her company, though he'd never admit it. She shrugs. 

"That's as may be. We shall see, when your punishment is over." Her eyes become piercing, and again it is as if she looks deep into his heart; he doesn't want to know what she finds there, or what she thinks of it, but it's disconcerting. Her question, when it comes, is about the last thinע he expected it to be. "Would you do it again, my son?"

It takes him a moment to absorb the question. He is still in pain, exhausted, this is no time for a verbal skirmish with anyone, and especially not with Frigga, who sees through his every lie. "Do what?" He asks, feeling as dull as Thor to even be asking. She narrows her eyes, and he looks down again.

"Don't try to avoid the question, Loki. Would you do any of the things you did again, given the chance? Attack Jotunnheim, attack Midgard, attack your brother, your people, ally yourself with beings far too dangerous to ever be more than enemies, try to bring about the destruction of a realm? Would you repeat your crimes?" 

It gives him pause, and he gathers up his strength to think before answering. His first inclination is to lie, to show contrition, to promise he would never stray from the moral guidelines imposed on him by his adoptive family, and would only use his considerable abilities for the general benefits of all beings- but he cannot. First, because he knows Frigga will see through it if he is not sincere, and he cannot sincerely promise such a thing, and second, because to pretend he is reformed would let Asgard think it has won, and this he refuses to do. She may have broken his resistance, but one display of weakness does not mean he is conquered. With some effort, he pulls himself as straight as he can, kneeling on the ground as he is, and looks at Frigga directly. He wants to make sure she hears and believes him. 

"I did what I did in full awareness of the potential consequences. I made a plan, and barring some unexpected events and minor changes, I accomplished exactly what I set out to do. Would I do it again, if I thought the end result worthwhile? If I thought my chances to succeed were high and it served my own ends? Yes, I believe I would. All of Odin's punishments cannot make me other than what I am, unless he kills me, in which case I would be dead, and less likely to cause further trouble." In the face of her steely lack of expression, he adds, "I have seen things, in the Void between Realms. I will never again be who I was before I fell, and to hope for it will only bring you disappointment."

She nods once, curt. "I thank you for your honesty. Although, mind you, your plans have always been elegant, subtle. This wholesale destruction...Is very unlike you Your plans also generally do not fail. Perhaps the two are connected."

Are they? Did he fail? He takes a moment to consider this, and eventually, very quietly, replies, "I did not fail. I set out to do something, and...my goals were met." It's true enough- he wished to return to Asgard, and here he is. That he got somewhat more attention from the rulers and warriors of Asgard was unforeseen, and is indeed a snag in his plans, but the fact remains that he did succeed in returning. 

Frigga is silent for a long moment, just watching him, and he wonders whether she will leave now, turn away from him and accept that he is not, and never was, her son. Instead, she asks yet another question. "Have you thought of what you will do, when this is over?"

"No." Simple, short, and he is truly too tired to elaborate. Why bother planning? It only makes him angrier, and anger takes energy he cannot afford. He lets him muscles go slack, trembling with the effort of staying upright and coherent. He wants to heal, and sleep, and never to wake up- or at least, he amends privately, to wake up in several centuries, maybe, when people have forgotten him.

"Try to think on that, as well. The future is quite important, after all." Unexpectedly, she kneels down and Loki finds himself enfolded in her arms, in her robes, again, surrounded by the smell and feel and comfort. Emotion rises in him again, struggling through fatigue, and he closes his eyes and lets her hug him as slowly, without active thought, he hugs her back. When she finally lets him go, it's her turn to wipe away tears. "Rest now, my son, and heal. There will be another warrior here tomorrow night, you must be as ready as you can be. Think on the future, Loki. I will not visit you again, but I shall see you when this is over and you are free." She rises, and he stays, and does not look up when she leaves. He is not sure she can hear his whispered 'thank you', but hopes that she does. 

When she is gone, he crawls back to his pallet and collapses on it, hurting inside and out. He can reach his magic now, and uses everything he can access to heal himself, but it isn't much, and the external healing is no relief for the pain where he supposes his heart ought to be. But, trusting that he is safe from further attacks by the Other, and having no real option of staying awake anyway, Loki sleeps.


	7. Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the end of the year looms ahead, what will Thor's revenge look like?

He sleeps heavily, without dreams, and wakes with the gag back in place, as before, but feeling somewhat better, more rested, than he has in a while. Moving is nearly impossible, he finds, as his muscles are battered, strained and sore, and pushing himself up from the floor sees the cuts on his back reopening yet again. It seems he is just in time, though, as the cave entrance opens just as he pushes himself up, cursing internally and gasping with the effort of it. A strong shoulder props him up, and he wants to pull away from it, but is reasonably sure he would fall on his face if he does. Better to avoid the further humiliation of a fall, he decides in the time it takes Thor to attach him to his chains again, and walk around to inspect him. 

"You're looking...better, Loki. Better than I expected. Mother helped?"

Loki does not answer, does not react. He doesn't want to think about Frigga's visit, not yet. The warrior behind him pauses and curses- it's not anybody he can immediately place by voice, and the name Thor calls him by doesn't stir that many memories, either; he is simply one of many warriors Loki has paid little attention to. Nevertheless, the warrior comes to a halt. 

"This is no harm done by an Asgardian, Thor. What has happened to him?" He asks over Loki's head, as if he isn't there. As he cannot answer, Loki doesn't much mind.

"Jotun. They are not known for their compassion." Thor replies shortly, and adds "They are very angry with him for causing so much damage." He does not sound happy with the end result of that anger, though his expression is reasonably neutral.

"Monsters." The warrior spits. "But then, perhaps he deserves it. Still..." Loki hears him move, hears the whip whistling down, and braces himself for impact. It strikes his legs, an area the Jotuns left alone, and though the lash stings, it is no more than he can bear, and causes no further damage to his most injured parts. He finds that the warrior is careful to limit himself only to that area, an uncomfortable angle for him, surely, but easier on Loki himself. Thor watches, his eyes bright and wet, but does not openly weep this time. Stranger and stranger, indeed. 

It's over fairly quickly, after a mere half hour, and even though it was a much lighter punishment than Loki usually takes, he barely keeps his legs steady until the warrior leaves, and folds down as slowly and carefully as he can as soon as only Thor remains. Thor insists on helping him across the cave, which Loki accepts for efficiency's sake, and watches him carefully. 

"Mother did well. I- I was so worried you wouldn't survive that last attack." He says earnestly. Loki gives him a flat look by way of reply, and Thor chuckles. "Yes, I know that it's pointless to say so now, brother, and I do not care. I worried about you, and I am glad mother was allowed to help." He touches Loki's shoulder lightly, and Loki draws away, just because he is able to. "Very well, I will leave you alone. But know that I am glad you're still alive and as sane as you ever were. I shall see you tomorrow evening, Loki. Good night."

It isn't a good night at all, as Loki lies there, fatigue and pain fighting for his attention until fatigue wins. He wonders how the days will pass now, with nothing to look forward to, not even another horrific visit from a Jotun. The only thing on his horizon is the end of his punishment year, beyond which stretches a void of the future, as vast and terrifying as the Void between the Realms, it feels like. He does not want to consider the future. The next day is about as much as he can manage. He sleeps, his sleep again undisturbed by nightmares or mental attacks, and wakes, eats, heals as best he can, and knows that soon enough one day will blend into the next again, made different only by which warrior will come, which implement will be used, where he would be hit. Monotony may be a blessing, as long as he makes the effort not to think. 

He finds he can't avoid thinking, though. Turning his brain off is something that takes real effort, especially after Frigga's visit. Her words remain with him, her kindness, and though he walks through every day that passes seemingly without noticing the warriors, Thor, or the beatings handed out to him nightly, his mind is fully occupied with turning Frigga's words over and over, seeking some meaning there. 

Is she correct, in thinking that the wide-scale attacks on Midgard and Jotunheim are unlike him? It is true that his usual plans are more subtle, and true also that he never actually intended to become king of Asgard, he only wanted either to bring Thor down, or to rise up himself so that they were equal in Odin's eyes- something which he knows now will never happen. He had been angry- angrier than he can ever remember being- when he'd turned the power of the Bifrost on Jotunheim, wanting only to destroy what he'd perceived as the source of all his trouble. Now, with so much time gone by, he can consider things more or less dispassionately, too worn out for fury, with some perspective, with the clarity born of having nothing else to think of for days and weeks on end, nothing to take apart in his mind. So he thinks about his attack on the human city, about his misdirected anger, about the alliance with the Other, as he would about any ancient strategic problem, detached, clinical, no more than a sand-table for him to study. It is easier to consider it without factoring himself into the actions or their results and consequences.

He barely remembers the attack on Jotunheim, to be honest; barely remembers exactly what was said, what was done, except the fury, the loss and betrayal he had felt, and Odin's refusal to say anything to mitigate any of those feelings. He thinks now he must have been quite crazed with it, and only the cold Void between worlds, devoid of any feeling or stimulation, had brought him out of it. Possibly, he admits to himself after several days of considering this, the Void did not quite subdue his madness, but only transformed it into something else, just as violent, just as reckless and careless, but colder, more calculated- the sort of madness capable of elaborate plans.

He's known exactly what he wanted to accomplish in attacking Midgard, he thinks as the lash strikes again and again in a steady rhythm. He'd wanted to go home. He'd wanted the Tesseract out of the equation. If giving it to the Other and his nameless master was the price, he didn't care. He thinks now perhaps the price was too high, and the final result of his plans not entirely worth it. He stands by his intentions, absolutely, but...perhaps, if he had to do it all again, he would think up a different plan. It's an easy enough conclusion to reach, lying aching and exhausted on his pallet: a different plan would have better results. He considers this at some length, circling in his own mind, slowly spiraling towards a resolution. 

"You're not eating again." Thor says, over a week after Frigga's visit, and Loki notices it for the first time. "Nor healing, either. Do I need to shake some sense into you again, brother?" 

Forced back out of his head and into taking note of his surroundings again, Loki only glares at him, and Thor chuckles. 

"Ah, a reaction at last. I was growing worried your hearing was somehow damaged." The glower intensifies, as does Thor's amusement. "There now, Loki. You've been ignoring me and all the warriors who've come this past week. It's very unsettling for them, even more so than your silence all these months, that you don't even react to me anymore. Has mother given you so much to contemplate?"

Loki doesn't care a whit if he's 'unsettling' the warriors who visit him. Let them be unsettled, it might discourage them from staying long. Let them fear him, and remember who he is; even tied up for their amusement. he is their better. His eyes convey the fact that Thor's concern is unwelcome and unnecessary, he hopes, but knows that this sentiment will be ignored, as always. Thor touches his arm, and Loki pulls away sharply, as much as his chains allow. Thor doesn't try again, but his expression reminds Loki of a kicked puppy. 

"Brother, you haven't very long left until the end of this year, you cannot give up now. Think, after you have survived the Jotuns, most of the greatest warriors of Asgard, and our mother-" his tone makes it clear that he believes the latter to be the greatest threat, "you will allow yourself to just fade away through lack of care for yourself? It's embarrassing." 

So many things in that sentence Loki can take umbrage at, but the bottom line, unfortunately, is that his dolt of a not-brother is correct. He cannot break now, and cannot, through his own distraction, weaken his body further. It would be terribly embarrassing, to survive this year, and everything else he had been through, only to become a ghost of himself. He remembers again that, despite everything, he does want to live. Irritated, he shrugs, and Thor grins, immensely pleased at this attempt at communication.

"You know I am right, brother. You think too much, too hard. It can't be healthy, all this contemplation." An old song, one Thor has repeated since they were children. "Especially now. I know you haven't much else to do, here...But try to think of nicer things- happier things." It's such a childish request that Loki almost laughs. It's ridiculous, immature, simplistic- it's so very Thor, in fact, that he disregards it as beneath his notice. But Thor doesn't stop there. "Think, for example, of a great hunt we can go on, when you're free. At least that is one sport you enjoy, hunting." He continues in this vein for what seems like hours, detailing hunts, dances, dinners, all things that Loki's mind shrinks away from, because if he wishes for them, dreams of them, then Asgard has won. Also, he knows that if he develops hope where no hope exists, he will truly go insane. Still hanging in his chains, Loki closes his eyes and tries very hard not to listen. Thor's hand on his cheek makes him flinch back with a muffled shout, hard enough to wrench his shoulders. Thor looks at his finger, at the wetness glistening on it, in wonder. Loki holds his breath, vividly horrified, frozen until Thor, with a sigh, strokes his cheek again and turns to release him from the chains. 

"Do not lose yourself, Loki. What you once were, you can be again." 

He doesn't look at Loki as he leaves, this time, and Loki sinks to the floor, trembling, despair like a living thing biting at his heels. He can never again be as he was. As he told Frigga, to hope for it would only bring him disappointment. He has no place in the happy, simple life of Asgard. Hasn't had one since the day he discovered the truth about his parentage. The foundation upon which he had based his world had dropped away that day, and he had fallen, well before his fall from the Bifrost, and was still falling even after the Other had caught him. In fact, Loki was reasonably sure that he was still falling now, further away from ever being able to return with every breath he drew, even here in Asgard itself. He curls into himself, and self pity threatens to overwhelm him. For a while he is almost tempted to let it succeed. Some tiny shred of dignity stops him from wallowing completely, but he is too tired to even work up anger, the surest remedy to such misery. Finally, as a last resort, he forces himself to sleep.

The days that follow are probably the worst Loki has had to that point. Even the days between the Jotun visits had included some sort of break in the monotony. Now, he has nothing unexpected to break the tedious routine, nothing but warriors of Asgard, with their petty little punishments. Loki has survived the Hulk, the Jotuns, and Frigga; the warriors should be as nothing to him. 

But somehow, they are wearing him down. Day by day, little by little, Loki weakens. Every night, he is hurt more than he can heal. His magic dwindles to almost nothing, and he spends most of the time between visits from the remaining warriors in sleep, too exhausted to do much else. He eats when Thor reminds him to, heals until he has no energy left to heal further, and it is never enough. 

The warriors...Loki knows, somewhere in the back of his mind, that they are trying to be kind, in their own clumsy way. It does not stop him from hating the one who decides to break his fingers rather than strip more skin from his back, nor the ones who decorate him with knives instead of leather. Some are satisfied with a few half-hearted strokes of a lash, others only stand and watch him for a few minutes, and do nothing further. These, he resents because he does not need or want their pity. He resents every single one of them, in fact, until he hasn't even the energy for resentment, and grows sullen and dull-eyed. When he makes the mistake of thinking ahead, fear of the future chokes him. He is a living shell of a person, with nothing to anchor him to any one place; what's to stop him from just drifting away, as soon as there are no chains holding him down? 

He does pay more attention to his surroundings now, out of sheer boredom. He notices the warriors, their names and their treatment of him, as he hasn't done since the early days of his sentence; he notices Thor. He notices that, since that day after Frigga's visit, Thor no longer weeps as he witnesses Loki's punishment. He looks grave, sad, agonized at times- but he does not weep. They stare at each other as Loki is punished, night after night, without talking. Thor rarely talks to him these days, except to remind him that he must eat every few days at least. Sometimes, Loki listens. And he wonders, still, as he has since the beginning, at Thor's behavior.

Days blend into weeks, the moon turns. Loki exists, survives through inertia more than through any real effort on his part. He sleeps, wakes, eats, hurts, all in a haze of not really caring anymore. Again he withdraws deep into his mind, where it is safer now that the Other is no longer there. At least when he is in his mind, he knows that he is not out of his mind. The sudden bark of bitter laughter drawn out of him at this thought is a stark reminder that he knows no such thing, really.

 

Everything feels muffled, and although Loki's sense of time is still present, if he concentrates on trying to sense it, he is still taken by surprise when Thor informs him that he only has seven more nights left to his sentence, and then a year and a day will end, and Loki will be free. But free to do what? To go where? 

The announcement brings him fully awake for the first time in weeks, and his heart skips a few beats as fear looms dark in his mind again. One week of this cave, of beatings, and then...what? Rebuild himself? Find somewhere to belong? He considers briefly the thought of holing up somewhere and plotting elaborate revenge, and discards the thought quickly. He is too tired for revenge, and by the time he recovers his strength, his revenge will have grown stale, and Asgard will have grown stronger. It's something to consider, later, after he is free. With vague amusement he considers the fact that freedom may succeed in breaking him where imprisonment had failed. It takes half a day for the amusement to change into determination that this must not be; Asgard cannot be allowed to win. 

Granted, a week to prepare himself for freedom, after a year of captivity, is not very long. He is unfocused, weakened by idleness and by injuries, his magic drained away to almost nothing. It is more than he can regain in a week, but Loki is quite determined to at least try. He starts walking around his cave, gets himself used to moving again, slowly, painfully, reminding his legs that they can stride, rather than carefully pick out step by step. He misses wide open spaces in which he can march, proud and confident, and the thought of regaining that speed, that confidence, seems a distant fantasy. He forces himself to eat every day, everything he is given, however tasteless and heavy it feels. During the day, he walks. At night, he stays sharply aware of everything, analyzing every sound, every touch, every sensation, as he had during the early days of his punishment year. He has since stopped caring, but now he tries to care again, as well. To pay attention to his nightly visitors, without them noticing it, of course. He gives them as much of his attention as he can without taking his eyes of Thor, every night. His brother seems heartened by the change in him, smiles more often, but says nothing. 

After five days of pacing, eating, healing and paying close attention, Loki finds that the room has started spinning around him, and considers that it might not be a terrible idea to sleep for a few hours, as he has quite forgotten to, caught up in his own drive to catch up on lost time. He sleeps and wakes, and sleeps again- and then it is the sixth night, exactly a year since he was first brought to this cave and chained here, and the final warrior, save Thor, lays down the whip. He leaves, bidding Thor a good night, and Thor releases Loki from his chains- for the last time, perhaps. Loki refuses entirely to speculate on what Thor might do to him, tomorrow. Thor gives him a look that Loki can't be bothered to try and interpret. 

"I will see you tomorrow evening, brother. Try to rest, until then." For a moment Loki fears that Thor might try to touch him, but he seems to change his mind, his hand already reaching out, and shakes his head slightly. "Good night." He disappears through the opening in the rock, and Loki surrenders to the sudden dizziness as the thought of only one more day, one more night, before the unknown, threatens to bowl him over entirely. He sits down hard and immediately regrets it as every part of him protests the motion, but once down he doesn't feel like standing up again, and instead curls up on his pallet and tries to heal away at least the most recent injuries. 

And now what? To think of the past is depressing, to contemplate the future, even more so. Loki tries to sleep, but finds that sleep eludes him. What will Thor do? His mind returns to the thought no matter how hard he tries to avoid it. Thor, more than any other warrior, has the power to truly hurt Loki. Much like Frigga, Thor knows him too well; even with his limited understanding, Thor's words hit home too often. And yet, Loki thinks it would actually be worse if Thor's punishment is the same as any other warrior's, just another night of steady beating. He has no doubt that Thor could do damage that way as well, but there would be a distance to it, an impersonal feel, that would hurt worse than any whip. And yet, the unknown option, whatever else Thor might do as punishment, worries him equally. 

And beyond the next night, freedom, supposedly. Loki thinks he might go away, as far from Asgard as he can get, and still be in a semi-civilized place. Not Midgard, certainly. Maybe Elfheim, he'd always liked Elfheim. But...Loki frowns, thinking. The Other hasn't made an attempt to invade his mind since Frigga's visit, perhaps aware now that someone was watching for him (and the thought that Frigga might be keeping an eye out fills Loki with a feeling he'd rather not name, as it might undermine everything he's worked so hard to retain, the hateful, hard cold of not giving in to her). If he left Asgard, though, certainly with his powers depleted as they are, with his mind unshielded and in disarray, he would be an easy target for the Other. And his vengeance, Loki knows, will be worse, and much more final, than Odin's. It might prove too great a risk to leave just yet. Then again, it is possible that mental disintegration is a more palatable prospect than staying in Asgard, as an outcast criminal. He has no illusions; the warriors of Asgard will not be quick to forget his deeds, and he does not expect to be accepted with open arms. He had friends here once, he thinks wistfully, and wonders if they remember him still, and have missed him at all. 

Asgard is the only home he has ever known, he thinks morbidly. And he has fought so hard to return here, what is the point, if he intends to leave now? Would the warriors brag of having driven him away, when he leaves? Can he give them that power over him? Or risk staying, and seeing them every day, having them see him, live with the consequences of his actions forever? He is a prince by blood and by upbringing, and princes, he has always been told, do not run away. 

He knows that he's wallowing, but really, what else has he to do, on his final day as a prisoner? Dread the night, and dread tomorrow. Between dread and worry, the day passes. Loki neither eats nor sleeps, feels the seconds ticking away slowly, and finds it harder to breathe as the day progresses. He tries to remain calm, detached, reminds himself that whatever Thor does, whatever happens next, he doesn't care. Must not care. Asgard cannot be allowed to win.

The day passes. Loki knows the moment the sun sinks beyond the horizon, because the walls of the cave slide open, and Thor comes in, alone and empty-handed. 

"Brother, it is a year and day since your punishment began." He says formally, and Loki thinks he probably rehearsed the words. "And, by the All-Father's decree, I should be the last one to punish you for your crimes, to take my revenge for the grief you've caused me, the times you've tried to kill me outright..." He trails off, looking sad and tired. "It has not been an easy year, has it, brother? Nor was the time before it easy. I can't imagine what you must've gone through, falling from the Bifrost." 

Loki stands before him, still and silent, and wonders whether there is a point to this speech, and what it might be. He flinches when Thor moves towards him, then freezes, hating himself for reacting at all, while Thor also freezes, looking even worse than before. 

"You fear me, brother?" He asks, subdued. "Of all your visitors this past year, save perhaps our mother, I am the one you have the least reason to fear. Please hold still." 

Loki has no intention of moving, but he is still surprised when Thor removes the muzzle. He says nothing, and his expression gives nothing away, but Thor still explains. 

"Father has allowed me to leave you free, tonight. I have convinced him that nothing you can say could make me want to help you any more than I already do, and that nothing you can say could make me hurt you, either, if you try to drive me to violence. And I will not chain you, my brother. Not tonight. Father has asked me to tell you, though, that if you attack me, or in any way resist me, he will extend the term of your punishment by a further month, and in that month he will personally see to your punishment every single night. Were I you, I would not try his patience in this matter." 

Risking Odin's further wrath at this point does seem like a terrible idea, but Loki wonders whether it might not still be better than letting Thor do whatever he is planning. Thor stays at his side, tilts his head a little, then says "We should sit." 

Loki doesn't move, startled and hesitant for just a moment longer than Thor's patience can stand, it seems, because he finds himself lifted bodily and taken across the room. For a single breath's time, Loki almost strikes out at him, and holding himself still takes up all of his attention as Thor settles down on Loki's pallet, his back leaning against the wall. He pulls Loki close to his chest, wraps his arms around him, and sighs. "There. That's better."

How exactly is it better, Loki wonders. He is practically in Thor's lap, awkward as the position is, with Thor holding him down, warm and close and Loki can't move, can hardly breathe, can barely think, held down like this. Thor's clothing feels odd against his own bare skin, and in the warmth of this- this odd, unexplained embrace- Loki notices just how cold he's been, and for how long. He holds very still, says nothing, and waits for Thor to do something. Anything, at this point, would be better than this. 

Thor does nothing. His chest is solid against Loki's back, rising and falling steadily. His legs bracket Loki's, not leaving him any room to move. After about half an hour, by Loki's estimate, he asks, "Am I hurting you, brother? You are still injured." 

There are so many things Loki can say in reply, but he bites his tongue and doesn't respond. Thor is, in fact, hurting him, but he'd die before letting him know that. He still has no idea what Thor is doing, or why. "I hope I am not." Thor continues, oblivious to Loki's inner struggle, "I have been waiting for so long to do this. Just- to hug you, with no chains and no warrior about to come and interrupt. This is my revenge on you, brother." Damn his eyes, he sounds almost amused, like this is some great joke, "I shall hug you until the third hour after midnight, and there is nothing at all you can do about it." 

Perhaps letting Odin strip the skin from his back for another month isn't such a terrible prospect, after all. 

Thor seems to be content to sit in silence, and Loki certainly isn't going to say anything, and so they sit, quiet, Thor warm and relaxed, Loki stiff as a board, chilly and growing more and more furious. How dare Thor do this? This unwanted, hated closeness, serving only to remind him of what once was, and would never be. The folk of Asgard are demonstrative creatures, and Loki finds that he's missed physical contact almost as much as warmth and stimulating conversation. But not like this. This is almost too much. 

"You are trembling." Thor's arms tighten around him and Loki hisses as something catches against a cut on his back. "Are you cold?" Deftly, Thor turns Loki around so they are facing each other, and Loki does not resist. Any reaction would mean failure. When he can see Loki's face clearly, Thor recoils slightly. "Ah. Not cold, then." He sighs. "You would actually prefer me to hit you, would you? You're allowed to speak, I've told you already."

Loki would, in fact, prefer it if Thor hit him at this point. He has no idea how to respond to this form of 'punishment'. He wishes more than anything that he could lash out and hit Thor, Odin's anger be damned, but something stops him still. As much as he doesn't know what he'd do with freedom, he is too close to it now to lose it on a whim. So he stays, feeling like a trapped animal, hoping Thor gets bored.

"Why are you so angry, Loki? I've missed you. Your companionship, your advice, your wit- I miss my brother. I feel as if I have not seen you, truly, since my exile to Midgard." Thor sounds so disgustingly earnest, so sad, it makes Loki sick. "I am so happy that it's almost over." He smiles, slow and warm, "Maybe, now you are free and back home, we can be brothers again." 

Something in Loki snaps.

"Let. Me. Go." The words are slow, measured, his voice rough. He hasn't spoken since Frigga's visit, but he is clear enough now. He doesn't move, but when Thor makes no move to release him, he repeats the request. "Let me go." It galls him, and his voice catches on the words, but he doesn't dare free himself, " _Please_." 

Thor's arms slide away from him, a look of shock on the blond warrior's face, and Loki moves so fast he almost collides with the wall on the other side of the cave. He stands, poised for flight or for defense, his face locked in fury. 

"I am not your brother. I never was, I never will be. I will never return- it will never be the same, never as it was- you idiot." The words are stuttering at first, then come in a rush, tripping over each other as Loki stumbles through. "I am never coming back. This isn't home." The words are bitter, acid in his mouth, and Thor looks like he's been slapped. "I hate you, all of you, I wish- I wish you'd just let me die." 

He stops then, and there is silence. Loki has no idea where the words came from, it is a thought that he hadn't dared put into words thus far, and it shocks him that he'd said it at all, especially to Thor, of all people. He knows as soon as he’s said it that the words are so much empty air- he is much too tired to hate anybody, and if he’d wished to die, he would be dead already. 

"Don't say such a thing, Loki." Thor's voice reminds Loki of Odin's, in tone and timbre, and he thinks that the brash warrior has matured, in the time since his exile. "You must not. I have told Father that you will not lie to me- and you have just lied. You do not wish for death, or you would not have lasted this year. I will not believe, after all you have been through, that you wish for death and yet are not dead. You wish to live." Thor repeats, angry now as well, and damn him for knowing Loki too well indeed, "But I am not sure you know how to live." He rises and moves towards Loki, not so quickly that Loki can't evade him. "Remember, brother- you cannot fight me, I don't want to hurt you, I don't want Father to hurt you. You have been hurt enough already, don't you think?

Loki can't keep from barking out a laugh at the question, harsh and ugly. "It doesn't matter what I think." He hisses. "Clearly, what I think and feel don't matter at all. And it will never be enough. The fine folk of Asgard will never forget how I tarnished their precious reputation, will they? And what do I have to show for this hurt, for their revenge? A safe seat in your shadow? I will have no part of it. I will take no charity from Asgard, nor from you."

"Not charity, but your rightful place as a prince!" Thor insists. "Can't you see, that you are being offered a chance to start over? To regain your place, your life?"

"My life as a secret to be kept under wraps and glamours? As Odin's pawn, his keepsake from the war?" Loki doesn't need to shout, which is good, because his voice is already faltering, unused to so much exercise. He is panting, shaking with fury. "Knowing that I was never one of you, and knowing that they- our so-called 'parents'-" the word drips venom- "know it too, have always known it, and never told me!" 

He continues then, letting out months of held-back fury and vitriol, now crystallized in his mind to sharp edges and clarity, shattering and let loose with deadly force. Only words, but then words have always been Loki's greatest weapon; he knows exactly how to hurt his intended victim- especially when that victim is Thor. 

Thor, who stands motionless, wordless. listens to the insults and imprecations hurled at him, and weeps, silent. 

Over an hour later he subsides, exhausted and hoarse, and slumps against a wall. Thor wipes his eyes with the back of his hand gracelessly. "Are you done?"

"No." Loki rasps, but they both know that he is, for now. Thor moves towards him deliberately, swiftly, and before Loki can dodge, he is again caught in a hug he can't escape. "What are you doing?" The question encompasses more than just that moment, relates to the entire past year, and Loki think Thor knows that. 

"I'm showing you, because when I tell you, you do not believe." Thor's voice rumbles and Loki feels it in his bones. "I love you, and I've missed you, even your sharp tongue. You are my brother, all of you, from your vicious temper down, and for a year I've seen you beaten, I've seen you angry and hurt and miserable, and all I've wanted was to be able to do this- to show you that you're still loved, and that you are not forgotten. And since you won't believe me when I say it, I'll hug you until you believe me. And I'm not letting you go again, rage all you like." 

"Not- your brother." The answer robs Loki of words, leaving him at a loss, and he holds on to this one truth like a drowning man. 

"Maybe not in blood." Thor concedes, "But in every other way that matters, in the childhood we shared, in our parents who love us, in our strength when we fight side by side- we are brothers. Nothing you can do or say will change that." He drags Loki down with him until they are both sitting on the floor again, still holding Loki close. "You are my brother, and I love you, and you can recover from this. You have all the time in the world, to recover. And I will be there to help you." 

The words, the embrace, the sudden light-headedness that comes with the release of dread held for weeks, and the knowledge that even if Thor is wrong, he means every word- all of these are Loki's undoing. He intends to wait Thor out, to sit there and be held and say nothing further, do nothing, until Thor is forced to let him go at the end of the night. but he is warm for the first time in weeks, and slowly, very slowly, something frozen in him starts to thaw out a little. The trembling starts in tiny tremors, which he ignores, but Thor clearly notices, because his hand on Loki's back starts to move in small circles, stroking his bare skin in a gesture clearly meant for comfort. Any word now, any further motion, and Loki fears he might fly apart, shatter into something he would never be able to put together again. It is agony, to lie there, held, _loved_ , in Thor's clumsy way, and not to respond. 

"Oh, Loki." Thor sounds resigned, tired, older, his voice thick with emotion. "Why do you accept punishment so much more gracefully than you accept comfort and affection?"

The question is enough like the one Frigga asked that Loki wonders whether she had spoken to Thor about it. He shrugs minutely, all the response he can muster just now, and Thor sighs again, still stroking his back. 

"Would it make you feel better if I hit you? Believe me, I can remember I am also very angry with you, if I must. And I am, Loki. You have caused me much grief, hurt my friends, and made my life very difficult among the lords of Midgard, who believe me to be as much a risk to them as you are, because we are brothers."

"We are n-" That's as far as Loki gets before Thor's hand rises from his back and slams down on his rear with a stinging impact that makes him gasp and swallows anything else he might've said. 

"No more of that nonsense, Loki. You will not repeat those words." Thor strikes him again, his hand hard and strong as any implement Odin had allowed the warriors, and Loki gasps again. "You can say anything else, but not that. Never again. You know, Mother was heartbroken when we thought you'd died. So was Father- and so was I. We mourned for months. All of Asgard did. I blamed myself for letting you fall." Then Thor pulls him even closer, holds him tighter, and whispers, "You can fall now, brother. This time I will catch you. I will not lose you again."

The tremors turn into steady shudders, and Loki falls, his weeping as silent as Thor's was all that year. Thor's promise is well made and well kept; he holds Loki, keeps him safe, allows him to let go, knowing that he will be caught and kept safe. Their tears mingle, as slowly, finally, Loki sinks into the embrace and returns it, awkwardly but with full intent. He can feel Thor smiling over his head. Eventually, worn out by emotion, they both sleep. 

Hours later, Loki wakes with a pressing question, something he knows he would never ask later, after this was over. "Thor?" He can't speak above a whisper, but it seems appropriate now. 

"Mm?" Sleepy, Thor shifts beneath him with a creak of leather. Loki thinks it is well past midnight now, possibly even past the third hour, but he makes no move to slip out of Thor's embrace; it is far too comfortable for him to move. 

"Why did Odin make you witness every night of my punishment?" His voice wavers, unsteady, but he ignores it. Thor opens one eye, then another, and sits up more comfortably, dragging Loki along with him.

"It was partially to make sure that no one exceeded the limits Father set on your punishment, and that you didn't injure yourself, out of anger or despair. He wished to keep you safe, and the others safe from you, you know this." 

Loki knows no such thing, and will not admit to it if asked, but he shrugs, so Thor will continue. 

"Partially...it was my punishment as well. For failing you." 

"Me?" This makes Loki sit up, and he hisses in irritation as everything starts hurting again. "You're making no sense, Thor." Why is he surprised that this is the case, though?

"But I did fail you, Loki. I am your older brother. I was supposed to catch you, I was supposed to help you, and instead I let you go. I let you fall, I failed to stop you, I failed to bring you home before you caused more trouble- that was my duty as a brother and as a prince, and I- failed." He looks genuinely distressed about that, guilty even, and Loki simply can't fathom this. 

"I let go." He says, confused. "I wouldn't have let you stop me, that should have been clear even to you. There was no going back, once we were on the Bifrost." He had let himself fall, deliberately let go of Odin's spear. Had fought tooth and nail and allied himself with horrific beings from another Realm, to stop Thor from taking him back to Asgard, when all he'd wanted was to return. "None of that was your fault." He can fault Thor for many other things, but not for this. "Your duty was to Asgard, not to me." 

"I was your brother first, the heir to Asgard second. Father thought I should witness the consequences of your actions and my inaction. I begged him to release you before a year was over, but our family cannot be above the law, especially if we want to maintain good relations with the other Realms. Once given, Odin’s judgment had to be seen through to the end- to tonight." Thor replies seriously, and then pauses. "Do you know, this is the first time we've spoken properly since Father exiled me to Midgard. I've missed this, too." He shakes his head sadly.

"That didn't stop you from trying to kill me when you found me on Earth." Completely unwilling to deal with the fact that Thor might be telling the truth, Loki turns the conversation away from that path. 

"I wasn’t trying to kill you, only to stop you. Besides, you started that, brother. You tried to kill me on the Bifrost. You almost allowed the Jotuns to conquer Asgard!" 

"I knew I could defeat them. I did defeat them!" Loki protests hotly, all the old grievances resurfacing. "All I wanted was to prove myself, and you tried to stop me!"

"You would've destroyed both our realms, if I hadn't stopped you." Thor snaps, and Loki has no real reply to that. He knows he had been angry enough, hurt enough- crazed enough- to've caused irreparable damage to both Realms and to the Paths between them, if Thor hadn't shattered the Bifrost. He wants to say he doesn't care, but through somewhat saner eyes, he knows that he does care, for Asgard at least. 

"If you'd just let me go through with it...I would've shown them all."

"Brother," Thor says gently, "there would have been no one left to show. It would not have worked. You should have known. You should have come home when I told you to, and none of this would have happened."

Loki snorts inelegantly. "You know why I didn't. Why I couldn't." 

Resigned, Thor nods. "I was very angry with you. But I was equally happy that you were alive. We mourned your loss. I mourned your loss, Loki. And you were alive, and you didn't come home! Can you blame me for being angry?"

"Yes." Loki answers flatly, and Thor laughs, a vibration Loki feels in his bones through the floor. Then he asks the one final thing that has puzzled him throughout the year, "Every night, you watched. And every night- almost every night you- you cried. Why, Thor? Through guilt for your supposed 'inaction'? For if that was the reason, then your tears have been wasted." 

"They were not wasted." Thor counters. "And they were not for me. Every night I watched you suffer, I knew you were angry and hurt and unhappy- and you should have been, that is the point of punishment-" Loki huffs at that, irritated, "-but in all that time, all that pain, you didn't cry. And it seemed to me somebody should." 

There is nothing at all Loki can say to this, and he looks away, edges away from Thor as he finds that at this time, facing the pain of Thor's love for him, he has no words. Thor continues, tactfully ignoring Loki's momentary struggle. 

"So you see, your punishment was partially mine as well. Partially, it meant also to prove to me that you were being fully punished for your crimes, to cool my anger with you. And I am still angry enough with you to shake you, if you were wondering. I am just too pleased to have you back to remember that right now. But you have not been fully punished yet." He adds, and at Loki's frown, elaborates, "It is not yet the third hour past midnight. Come back here." Loki moved away as they spoke, and now returns, rolling his eyes, and allows Thor to hug him again. "The worst thing I could think to do to you." 

Loki can think of several worse things, but clearly Thor lacks Loki's familiarity with cruelty. He is willing to admit, to himself at least, that as punishments go, it may be both the best and the worst night he has had in a year. As he lets himself rest his head on Thor's shoulder, he thinks that it is possible that Thor, at least, does actually love him, despite the idiocy of it. 

They both sleep, then, and when they wake, Thor drapes a cloak over Loki, and takes him to Odin's chambers- and to the promise of freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue to follow. Thank you to all my readers who've left comments, feedback is always appreciated!


	8. Epilogue in Seven Parts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a long, long road to recovery. Or, how Loki won, in the end.

**1\. Speak**

Loki does not look up at Odin's face. He stands in the throne room, Thor at his side, a simple grey cloak covering his nakedness, covering the signs of the long year he has been through. To his surprise, Odin rises from the throne and comes down to face them. 

"My son. Look at me." He has to repeat it before Loki obeys, not because Loki fights him but because it takes a fight with himself to raise his eyes. When he does, Odin is as he ever was- old, powerful, everlasting. Loki cannot hold his gaze for long, and closes his eyes. "Look at me, Loki." Odin instructs for the third time, and Loki opens his eyes with some difficulty. "Good." Odin looks him up and down. "A year and a day have passed. All who claimed the right to take their vengeance have taken it. You are free." With those words, the cuffs on Loki's wrists and ankles, the metal collar around his neck, snap open. Color washes across Loki's vision as the world spins and then goes dark. 

He comes to his senses moments later, his body humming, practically vibrating, his mind rushing with white noise and bright lights, skimming the line between pleasure and pain. 

"You could've done that more gently, Father." He hears from above him, and notes that he is lying on the floor. Everything feels brighter, more alive, and as Loki catches his breath, he realizes he has full access to his magic again. It's a heady rush that leaves him breathless; even though he knows he is weaker than he has been in centuries, he can feel the currents of ambient energy around him, stronger near Odin, and it feels like his limbs have been unbound in more than just the physical sense. 

"I did not anticipate that his body would be unable to withstand the full force of his magical powers. Perhaps I should've waited a few days." Odin actually sounds slightly contrite. Loki forces himself up to his feet, but it's only Thor's arm under his that allows him to stay standing. 

"No need to wait." Weak and unsteady, his words seem to surprise Odin. "I thank you, All-Father, for letting me regain my powers. I give you my word that they will not be used against Asgard." Not anytime soon, certainly. 

Odin nods. "See that they are not, my son. You will not be given another chance after this one." He is not angry, but his warning is clear and certain. "We will discuss things further after you have rested." He says, as if Loki has returned from a trip, and it feels like a dismissal and Loki is almost ready to bristle, but then Odin hugs him, a bastion of strength and security, and any breath he might've had to respond with is gone. He tells himself that he finds it hard to breathe only because of the strength of Odin's embrace, squeezing the air out of him, but this does not explain why he can't find words until after Thor escorts him to his rooms. 

**2\. Heal**

Clothes feel strange, after a year of feeling only air and metal cuffs on his skin. Even the softest wool and silk chafe and feel awkward on the first few days, and Loki makes do without, as he spends them in the safety of his chambers anyway. He bathes first, lingering for hours in hot water, then sleeps for a day and a half. At first the very bed feels odd, his sleeping furs scratchy and cumbersome, but this he gets used to quickly enough. Clothes take longer. He takes to wearing loose robes, to get himself used to being covered again without feeling fabric pressing down on every lingering mark and bruise.

Not being bound takes longer, too. He feels more naked without the cuffs and collar than he had while still wearing them, as if there is nothing holding him down, preventing him from flying away. He finds that he wraps the fingers of one hand around the opposite wrist when he feels lost or unsafe, which is often, in the first days, and tries to stop when he notices himself doing it, but still it happens again and again. 

He does not heal, at first. He eats carefully, building up his strength, not overdoing anything, on the first days of his so-called freedom. Thor visits him, and Frigga, and neither one of them asks why he does not use his magic, now that he has full access to it again, to heal away the marks of his year of punishment. Frigga understands why he does not, and Thor does not want to pry, for a change. Loki knows that he could be free of the lingering aches with a thought, but he does not do it. Healing away the physical hurts while his mind is still raw with the experience would make the recovery slower and more difficult, he knows. If he wishes his mind and soul to heal along with his body, then they need to be kept to the same pace. 

There are things he cannot heal, anyway. The scars left by the Jotun whip will remain with him, nine ugly lines etched from shoulders to thighs, crossing each other. He hopes they will fade in time, knows that he will stop feeling them, being aware of them with every motion, eventually, and hates them with a passion, all the same. 

There comes a morning, just under a month after he is released, that Loki wakes free from pain. He tests out his limbs, bending and stretching, without a twinge. The scars remain, but they no longer pain him. The memory of bruises has not faded, but the marks have. He tells himself this is a good thing, a step forward, but clothes still feel strange against his skin.

**3\. Leave**

For weeks, Loki stays hidden in his room. His meals are delivered, he has books and other diversions to keep him from boredom, and the truth is that he sleeps a great deal, still recovering his strength. Frigga sits with him, when she decides he has had enough time to himself, and works him through the paces of constructing mental shields as she did when he was a child, just coming into his power. This, more than the unlocked doors and lack of guards, tells him that he is free to leave if he wishes- she is helping him to become independent again, freeing him from Odin's protection. Also, sitting with Frigga is pleasant and soothing, she is ever practical and wise, and her conversation is easier to bear than Thor's. Loki says little, except to acknowledge that he is following her words occasionally, but she does not press, for the first few weeks, does not ask for more than he is willing to give.

Thor, however...

"Brother, you must come out at some point."

"I 'must' do nothing that I do not wish to do, Thor. I'm no longer a prisoner." Loki reminds him acerbically. They are in his chambers, Loki sitting on his bed, Thor pacing. 

"You're making a very good pretense of being one, hiding in your chambers all day. It's been over a month already, Loki, you'll need to face them eventually. You haven't seen the sun in a year, don't you miss it?"

"I've seen the sun." Loki points to the open window, "It's very nice. But there's no reason for me to leave, nor do I wish to. Stop trying to force me, it will not work." It's not that he doesn't want to leave, but the thought of having to face the rest of Asgard terrifies him. He knows this, and in his heart he does not deny it; he has no idea what he can say to people who have declared him a traitor, and must now accept him back into society. He has even less idea what they might say to him. 

"You must come out at some point." Thor repeats stubbornly. "If you do not want to join us at dinner, at least come to watch the warriors train- or to practice with us- you're still too skinny." 

He's not wrong, there. Though Loki's body is recovering swiftly enough, he's still not quite his old self. The idea of joining the warriors in any capacity is unthinkable, however, and he shakes his head. 

"The library, then? Old Gard's been asking after you. He said he has some new manuscripts you might enjoy." 

The library is supposedly safe. Warriors rarely visit it, and the cool, dry halls lined with parchment and ink have ever been Loki's refuge. It's a tempting offer. "Maybe. In a while." 

"At least come riding with me. You'll need see no one, but you can't stay cooped up in here. Feel the air on your face, the grass under your feet. It'll do you good." 

Maybe he is right. Maybe it is better to brave the world outside before he gets too used to staying here, that he may leave more easily when the time comes. Has captivity turned him into a coward? No. He refuses to allow it, to allow Asgard, to change him so much. Scowling, he nods once, sharply. "I will ride with you." After a moment's consideration he qualifies, "A short ride." 

They leave together, Loki cloaked in green, walking tall, with his face uncovered and his head held high. Only Thor, close enough to him that their hands brush together, can tell that his is trembling. Loki makes a conscious effort not to look directly at anyone they pass along the halls, and in the stable. Thor does the talking, and when one or two people greet Loki, he nods politely but does not reply. They don't run into any of the warriors who took part in Loki's punishment, and he wonders whether Thor chose a day on which most of the warriors were out hunting or training, on purpose. He does not ask, though, and soon they are on horses, and riding out. 

Riding is odd, his muscles no longer used to it but adjusting quickly. He is not as fast to adapt to the expanse of sky above him, nor to the sudden presence of trees on the horizon. The solid warm presence of the horse beneath him keeps him grounded, when everything seems too big suddenly, too open, and he finds it harder to breathe as they get further away. Within minutes, they are too far from the citadel, surrounded by too much open space, and Loki stops abruptly, pulling his horse short and letting Thor ride ahead. By the time Thor realizes this and rides back to him, he has slid down from the horse and is leaning against the beast's side, his eyes closed, breathless and feeling as if he might be ill. 

"Loki? Are you unwell?" Thor dismounts as well, worried, and with the horse behind him and Thor in front of him, Loki dares to open his eyes. 

"The...view. It's breathtaking." He manages, knowing it is a feeble excuse for his behavior, but Thor nods in understanding. 

"Asgard can be overwhelming. I returned after only a short while as a mortal, and it took me some time to get used to it again." Loki notes that Thor keeps blocking his view of the horizon. "Just enjoy the air and the grass and flowers right here, we don't have to go any further." 

"There is nothing interesting here." Loki states, just for the sake of arguing. He is not some invalid, to be coddled. "We shall continue to the lake." If he is already outside, he will see it through. Thor doesn't try to talk him out of it (unfortunately), and they both remount and continue. It's hard going, for all that it's an easy ride and the lake is not far, but Loki reminds himself that he has withstood the worst that Jotunheim had to offer, and possession by an entity so far outside the understanding of even a god, and a little bit of nature is nothing, compared to that, and pushes on through sheer stubbornness.

When they reach the lake, Loki thinks it was worth it, maybe. They sit on the grass, with no need to fill the silence between them, as Loki slowly gets used to an unobstructed view of the horizon, and enjoys the smells and sounds of nature. He finds he has missed them, and truly enjoys the sun on his skin, the ground beneath him. He's quite glad it's still the warm season and not midwinter. After a while, when the sky no longer scares him, he rises, and they ride back. 

There are no nightmares that night, and Loki believes that it might truly be possible for him to leave, if he wishes to. But he still does not know exactly what he wants to do. 

**4\. Feel**

They don't discuss his actions, his treason. The conversation eddies around it, and they have plenty of other things to talk about. As days go by, Loki starts to venture out of his rooms. He goes to the library, mainly, and to the still-rooms where he worked before, as familiar as childhood friends and far less demanding than flesh and blood companions. There are no warriors there, and few who give him a second glance. When some do glance in his direction, the glances are not hostile. It's peaceful, and he keeps out of people's way, and for weeks, he only speaks to Thor and Frigga, and it's exactly as much conversation as he can manage. Thor tries to get him to join them for dinner some days, or outside to train, but he always declines. 

Loki doesn't expect a summons from Odin, despite the All-Father's promise that they would talk 'later'. But then later arrives, apparently, and he is called to Odin's chambers. It does not go well. 

Walking to Odin's hearing chamber is a test in itself- it's in a far more populated part of the palace than Loki likes, and guarded by two warriors who'd taken part in his punishment. They both nod politely, say nothing, and act so painfully casual that Loki almost smiles. It is good to know that he is not the only one who finds the situation terribly awkward. 

Inside, it is no less awkward. They exchange meaningless pleasantries for a few moment, before Odin turns to the business at hand. 

"Is there anything I can say to change your opinion of me?" 

Odin is all-wise, all-knowing, supposedly. Surely he knows the answer, but wants to hear it from Loki himself. "Nothing I can think of." He confirms, his voice as emotionless as he can make it, and Odin nods. 

"Very well. I will say this, then: you are my son, I regard you as my own, as I always, have, and I love you and wish to see you safe, happy and well. Also, I have not thanked you for saving my life when Laufey attacked. I am grateful for that." 

Loki nods, accepting the gratitude without truly acknowledging it. He does not answer. It goes downhill from there.

"Are you proud of what you did, Loki? The damage caused, the lives lost?"

Silence. 

"The failure sits heavily on you." Odin adds calmly, after waiting for a response for three endless minutes. Loki shrugs.

"Who ever enjoys having a plan thwarted by blind chance and unpredictable people?" He refuses to be driven to anger. "Is this what you wished to discuss, All-Father? My supposed crimes?"

"Oh, they were certainly crimes, Loki, and you know it well. They were not acts of war, and luckily, they did not start a war, though they might've. I'll grant you this, my son- you were thorough enough that all who might've wished to retaliate against Asgard were too busy rebuilding their homes to take their revenge until I could give them a single target to focus on, and so prevent a war." There is no trace of regret in his voice, nor of sympathy. 

Loki's stomach churns as self-loathing turns to numb resignation. It is as he had thought, and for once, he wishes he had been wrong about Odin. He says nothing, waits for him to continue. 

"Have you given thought to what you wish to do, now that you are free?"

"I have not." He bites the words out one by one, careful, because after less than ten minutes with the All-Father he is quite ready to scream, rather than talk. Odin's single eye doesn't blink. 

"Do you feel ready to take up your former duties? Diplomatic missions, meetings, the defense of the Realm? Your magic has certainly recovered enough to help reinforce the borders." 

For a long moment, Loki is struck speechless. He cannot believe that Odin would ask him to serve Asgard- to serve _him_ again, after all that has happened- and he believes even less that Odin trusts him to do it. "You would trust me with the border defenses?" He sneers after taking a moment to recover. "A traitor and killer? How would that look to your loyal subjects, to have your most disloyal subject attending their borders? If this is your idea of a jest-"

"No jest, my son." Odin stops him before he gather momentum for a rant. "And no better way to show that you are still my beloved son, a prince of Asgard, loyal to the Realm and trusted." 

"But I am none of those." Loki replies flatly. 

"Are you not?" Odin asks calmly. "If you are not my beloved son, loyal to the realm, why do you still live, Loki?"

"By rights, I should be dead." Loki crosses his arms across his chest, knows it looks defensive, but once committed to the gesture, he would look foolish to immediately uncross them.

"Maybe so." Odin nods. "And yet you live, and all who wished to take their revenge have been satisfied. I hope you will regain your place and standing in Asgard. i will not stand in your way- but I will not lead you, either. Your place is your to choose and to gain.” It is the way of the Aesir, and the most Loki can expect- it neither surprises nor disappoints him. Odin sighs. “I may trust you, but you will not trust me." He sounds genuinely sad, and for a moment, Loki wishes that he could forgive and forget, as Odin claims to have done. But, he cannot. 

"I don't. You have given me little reason to trust you these past years, All-Father." As he says it, Loki comes to a conclusion. "I think I will leave Asgard as soon as I feel able to travel. Soon." He is quite sure now that he cannot stay.

"Where will you go?" Odin does not seem surprised, but then he so rarely does. 

"Anywhere but here." Loki replies swiftly, and then amends, "Anywhere but here, Midgard and Jotunheim."

"I see." Odin considers this. "You should be safe enough outside of Asgard. Frigga tells me that your shields are back to full strength, it is unlikely that the entity which possessed you will succeed again in doing so. But he will try, Loki. What will you do if he succeeds?" 

"If he succeeds I will no longer be able to do anything about it. Nor will I care, most likely, by the time he is finished." Again Loki shrugs. He thinks for a moment. "May I ask...a favor, All-Father?" It galls him to ask, but this is something only Odin can do.

"You may." Odin's tone implies that there is no guarantee the boon would be granted, but that is to be expected.

"Remove the glamour laid on me. I would see my true self." He has not tried this in all his time with the Other, and assumes that Odin's magic kept him looking like the Aesir while his magic was bound. Odin seems surprised at the request. 

"This is your wish?" There is a deep sadness in his one eye. "Is your dislike of me so strong, Loki, that you would wear the face of those who have truly wronged you, rather than be seen as my son?"

It is a testament to Loki's patience and self control that he merely rolls his eyes. "Not everything is about you, mighty Odin." His voice is remarkably steady. "I merely wish to regain control of the face I present to the world. I will do nothing that might start a riot in your palace, I assure you." All he wants is for Odin's glamour to be taken away, that he may use his own again. Slowly, his expression back to carefully-controlled neutrality, Odin nods.

"As you wish." There is a small ripple as the glamour is removed, and Loki raises a palm to his face, chilled and blue, and inspects it. He feels nothing. With a slight incline of his head, he casts his own glamour and looks like his false Aesir self again- a face he is much more used to and more comfortable with. 

"Thank you. May I leave, All-Father?" Now that it is done, he cannot take another moment of Odin's company. 

"You may. Be well, my son." 

Loki no longer bothers to protest that he is no son of Odin's. 

**5\. Trust**

Leaving is easier said than done.The outer Realms are a scary place, and Loki finds that, having fought and sacrificed to regain Asgard, he does not want to be lost again- to lose it again. He wakes night after night drenched in cold sweat, his heart racing, from dreams of falling endlessly through the Void- or worse, of being caught by the Other again. He stops leaving his room again, and paces for hours, trying to think of anywhere he could go and not feel hunted anymore. 

He tells Thor nothing of his intentions, and if Frigga hears of them from Odin, she does not mention it. Thor tells him he is growing too skinny again, and nags about training, riding or the library, but Loki ignores him. He reads through days and nights, requesting manuscripts to be delivered to him, looking for distant places and new spells to safeguard himself. Few things seem to offer the kind of security he wishes for, but he keeps busy with research and mastering a range of defensive spells he has never before had use for. At night, after waking from yet another nightmare, he sits and wonders what is worse, leaving or staying. Is the unknown outside better than the known dangers of Asgard? Would he rather be lost than mocked? Is being adrift better than becoming what he is not, to please others? Could he, possibly, stay until he is sure enough of himself that he can leave, without becoming lost? 

The final conclusion, after several days of contemplation, is that he has been going about it entirely the wrong way. In fact, Loki’s initial conclusion is that he is an idiot, a complete and utter fool, blinded by irrational fears, and generally a disgrace to his ancestry and everybody else besides. But the bottom line is, that he has been planning backwards the entire time, and looking at things upside-down. Clearly, if he continues to act nothing like himself, a mere shadow of his former glory, how can he ever expect to gain respect? To regain his former power? Cringing and skulking do not a prince make, after all. And if he cannot stand up to Odin and the others, face them as he has for centuries, what hope has he of dealing with the world outside Asgard? 

The Aesir are a warrior culture, they thrive on shows of strength and endurance, and have no place for weaklings and cowards. Loki knows in his heart that he is neither weak nor a coward, but he must show it if others are to accept him as such. He cannot expect others to trust him until he trusts himself. And even when he does, he expects they will continue not to trust him for quite a long time. In truth, he can see why. Smaller people rarely realize the true potential of great ideas- even poorly executed ones. So, he decides, to recover his old self he must act like his old self, face those who have hurt him, and show them that Asgard has not won, that Loki is not broken. Running away will not accomplish that- he must regain himself, prove his confidence, before he leaves. And when he leaves- if he leaves- it must be his own decision, made by a clear mind, unencumbered by lingering insecurities. 

Even before he leaves his chambers he finds that acting as he had before his imprisonment will be difficult. He chooses a darker, muted green with coppery brown accents rather than his favored poison green and gold, preferring not to draw too much attention to himself before he knows he can stand being sociable again. Having been brought as low as he has ever been, it's hard to recover his old arrogance immediately, even with his mind made up. But he walks to the library, no longer slinking and skulking in the shadows but through the main corridors with his head held high. And the world does not come to an end, and nobody mocks him or remonstrates or even looks at him strangely. If they do, he makes an effort to ignore the looks. 

The next time Thor suggests that Loki come train with the warriors, as he doggedly does every few days, Loki nods, which surprises them both, frankly. 

"I should take up some kind of exercise. But, perhaps, not with the warriors quite yet." He skirts around the main issue, that he does not want to face them before he is sure he has not lost any fighting skills he had before. "Would you like to spar with me, in here?"

Thor's face lights up, but then clouds slightly, and Loki recoils. Surely Thor doesn't think he'd use this as an excuse to attack him- or does he? Loki knows that under any other circumstances, he might've done just that. And if he is honest with himself, he does not know that he would not take the chance now, if his anger was roused. As he waits, barely breathing, Thor considers and comes to a decision. 

"I will be here tomorrow morning, with two swords." He agrees, relaxing and smiling slightly, and something tight around Loki's chest uncoils and melts away. He find he is intensely grateful for Thor's forgiving nature.

Trust goes both ways. It's a leap of faith for both of them, but they take it. The first session is hesitant, Loki uncertain of his movements, Thor wary of injuring him by accident. In time, they both get used to it, and Loki comes to enjoy sparring with Thor. It does, in a way, feel like the good old times.

**6\. Stay**

Of course he stays, in the end. As much as he denies it, Asgard is Loki's home, where he feels safest even when he thinks everybody is staring at him wherever he goes. It takes weeks, months for him to regain some kind of confidence, but he is in no hurry. He is still careful, and avoids the warriors as much as he can, as summer ends and winter draws close. When he must meet those who tormented him, he does his best to ignore them, paying them no more attention than he ever had. He is cool and polite with Odin, much warmer with Frigga and Thor, and regaining his standing in the study halls and among the few others who use magic. 

None try to draw him out- none except Thor, who more than makes up for the others' reticence. For days he tries to get Loki to join him for training outside, and for all his simplicity, Thor is a persistent creature, and even Loki gets tired of his nagging eventually. 

"Come spar with me outside, for a change. The fresh air will do you good." 

"Enough! Will I have no peace until I agree?" Loki spins away, but Thor follows, persistent as wind and water.

"None whatsoever. You might as well save yourself the irritation and just come with me." There is the slightest trace of a smirk on Thor's face. "You'll enjoy it, Loki. The trees are beautiful this time of year."

"I can see the trees perfectly well from here." Loki replies sourly, but they both know that he has already lost this argument. He puts up only token resistance when Thor sends him to change into something more appropriate and pack his equipment. Under protest, they head towards the outdoor training arena- and even from a distance, Loki can see the figures already there. He almost stops, but forces himself to continue without faltering. 

"You knew they'd be here." His words are icy, through clenched teeth. Thor nods, not in the least guilty about tricking his trickster brother. 

"Of course I knew. I asked them to come. They were your friends once, Loki, they could be again. You only need to give it a chance- and them."

He does not want to face them. It's sheer cowardice, the chill fear that his precarious balance will be disturbed by these former friends, that they would mock him, or worse, ignore him as unworthy of their attention. But they must see none of this. The Loki who greets the Warriors Three and the Lady Sif at the edge of the arena is cool, collected, and polite- or at least determined to be so for as long as he can stand it.

"My friends." Even Thor's smile seems worried, "I'm glad you agreed to join us." 

"Join you, you mean." Sif sounds as angry as Loki is, which is scant comfort. "You never said _he_ would be here."

"Did I not? It must have slipped my mind." Thor seems entirely innocent, even amused by their mutual anger, but there is a wary edge to his tone. "Come, Sif- this is training, it should be fun. You needn't spar with Loki if you do not wish to." 

"Indeed, I do not." Her arms are crossed in anger and defensiveness, and Loki is glad that his arms are not, and he seems much more at ease than he feels. While Sif very carefully doesn't look at him, the others stare without trying to hide it, and he stares right back. They don't seem to have changed much in the year and more since Loki had last seen them. 

An awkward silence follows, stretching between them until Volstagg breaks it, with forced cordiality. 

"You look...well, Loki. It is good to see you recovered."

"There were many who thought you would not survive this past year." Fendral picks up the conversation smoothly, unhindered by Hogun's elbow aimed at his ribs, "Especially after the Jotun princes came...the stories were quite hair-raising." 

Loki can just imagine, but his mouth moves while his conscious mind is still analysing the many forms those stories might've taken.  
"Ever so sorry to disappoint them."

For a moment, no one seems to breathe, as his meaning sinks in. Then, Volstagg guffaws, Fendral grins, and Thor claps Loki on the back hard enough that he almost stumbles, Even Hogun cracks a tiny smirk.

"Well said, brother! You live still, and one day stories may be told of your courage this past year, of your endurance, which would make anybody proud."

"Absolutely not!" The cry comes from two throats at once, almost identical in inflection, if not in pitch, and Loki and Sif stare at each other, mutually horrified by this shared opinion. Loki breaks the silence first.

"You're an idiot, brother." He snaps, not even noticing his slip- it is the first time he has called Thor 'brother' since his fall from the Bifrost- "I very much hope no stories of the past year are ever told. It is best forgotten, and is certainly no cause for heroic tales." The last thing he needs is to be reminded of his misery. "You'd best forget about any ideas you have to turn Odin's punishment for me into anything but what it was."

Sif makes a face. "As much as I hate to say it, Thor, he's right." 

Loki bows mockingly in her direction, and Sif scowls in return. 

"Oh, very well." Thor slumps, "But I know what I saw, a whole year where you only saw one night, and if none will hear this story, I will keep it in my heart and remember it. Now, let's fight!"

Loki is glad to take up his sword and shield again, if only to distract Thor from further idiocy. But he is less nervous the next time Thor drags him outside, and things between him and the Warriors are less strained. Even Sif thaws a little, after they spend a day or two going round after round, until they are both exhausted. It feels good to be able to hit back. 

**7\. Win**

Without ever leaving Asgard, without leaving the palace that often, even, Loki takes a journey. It is a journey that leads from his chambers to the library, to Frigga's solar, to Thor's chambers with a few companions for a quiet evening. It leads to the still rooms and the healing halls, where Loki is greeted with initial, quickly stifled suspicion, but eventually welcomed again. It leads, as the snows come and Asgard settles down for winter, to Loki finding a new suit of festive clothing on his bed one morning, and a note from Frigga that he is expected to attend the midwinter feast, and no excuses short of a fatal wound would be acceptable. 

The thought of somehow tripping and falling on a sword passes through Loki's mind, but is quickly extinguished.

Walking into the feasting hall for the first time, Loki feels rather as he felt when he first faced Odin after his return to Asgard- afraid, yet defiant. Asgard will not win, will not defeat him. He makes a point of arriving alone- not with Thor, not with Frigga- so that all may see him stand in his own right as one of them. 

Defiance may be a pleasant thrill, but, as all eyes turn to watch him as he enters, Loki rather regrets this decision to face them all with no buffer, no support. Still, he holds the floor, bears their scrutiny without a flinch, moves at a measured pace to his place next to Thor, only two seats removed from Odin himself. Every single warrior who participated in his punishment is in the hall now, Loki knows, but he does not look at any of them. Thor smiles and greets him and pulls him down to sit, and Loki allows him to. It allows him to keep his gaze focused on the table in front of him, and not on the room.

But no. He raises his head and almost glares at the room. He will not hide from them, none may say that he fears the warriors of Asgard, or that he feels shamed before them. Though he knows that their mockery will sting more than any lash, Loki faces it head-on. He has never before had a problem with being the center of attention, but now he finds that it quite destroys his appetite. 

"Eat, brother!" Thor urges him. "Mother made sure the cooks prepared your favourite treats. It's Midwinter, it's a time to be joyful!" He is already a little flushed from ale and wine. Loki scowls at him briefly, makes no reply and goes back to moving food around his plate. He is tempted to sharpen his hearing by magic, to see whether anybody is whispering about him, but decides he is better off not knowing, just this once. When he finally forces himself to eat, for appearance's sake only, he is too distracted to enjoy it properly. Frigga engages him in conversation, first about his food, then about his most recent project, and he tries to hold up his end of the conversation. He is as well trained in feasting manners as any highborn of Asgard, and better than some of them, he thinks as the wine starts to flow and certain warriors become louder and more joyful. 

Musicians set up their instruments and dancers rise to dance, Thor among them. Loki watches as he leaps through the complex steps of a dance, swinging maidens around the floor, and where he would normally wish to join the dancing, he is content to sit and watch, and draw no attention to himself. The music is a pleasure, though, and his foot taps to the rhythm of the familiar tunes. He sees a circle of poets and storytellers set up across the hall, far enough away from the musicians that they can talk. 

He gains nothing by sulking at the high table. Loki rises smoothly and walks across the room, mostly ignored by others who are busy with their own merrymaking, to the circle of chairs and cushions. Orvar sees him coming, grins and points to an extra cushion on the floor, which Loki picks up with a huff of disdain, and uses to pad a chair he removes from a nearby table. 

"When have you ever known me to sit on the floor, Orvar?" He asks, as if it has been days, rather than many months, since he has spoken to the archer. There are others here who have taken part in his punishment, warriors who are fond of poetry, and he remembers with perfect clarity what each and every one of them did- and chooses not to dwell on it, for now. Look to the future, rather than the past, and accept that his year of punishment was an event unto itself, and now that it has ended, is unlikely to be mentioned again. He takes his seat, nodding at the others as pleasantly as he ever had. For a while, things go well; stories are told, songs sung, a few jokes exchanged, all without Loki's active participation but without excluding him, either. Though he passes every time it is his turn to sing or tell a tale, Loki finds that he is...pleased. Apparently he has not forgotten how to be. 

"Liesmith!" His chair is jostled from behind, almost knocking him to the floor, and the voice is familiar, hated, and ripe with too much strong wine . Loki turns, slowly, to face the warrior, a bully generally disliked by everyone who is not a fellow fighter, and none too popular with the warriors, either. "I almost didn't recognize you with your clothes on!"

Someone gasps behind Loki and silence settles over the hall. At his side, Orvar starts to rise, but Loki stops him with a gesture. If he cannot deal with the petty bullies of Asgard, then what was the past year of nightmare good for? He stands and faces the warrior, carefully composing his face into smug disdain. 

"So, one is brave enough to say what others only think in their hearts! Truly, you are a credit to the famed foolhardiness of Asgard, now that I have no chains to hold me back." People around him tense, but he has no wish to fight, and his wit knows what to do even as his rational brain recommends running away. "Be sure that I will not hold the words against you, though. I know that it is foolishness, born of jealousy ." And here he turns to address the rest of the hall, a wicked grin on his face, "It's well known that if it were him put naked on display, it would be for our punishment, rather than his!" 

 

As witticisms go, Loki knows that this is far below his usual standard, vulgar and expected, but even his silvered tongue is rusty. Fortunately, the gathered listeners are an easy audience; the first snickers begin while the drunk warrior is still working through the meaning of Loki's words, and by the time he realizes the insult, they are all laughing. If Frigga's smile has more of relief in it than true mirth, well then, Loki echoes this relief. The warrior tries to charge at Loki, but a quick blast of discrete magic trips him, and he falls on his face well shot of his target. The laughter increases, and Loki makes a show of wiping his hand on his tunic before sitting back down, as what few friends he has drag the hapless warrior out of the hall to sleep off his drunkenness. "Where were we?"

Asgardians see things in black and white sometimes. There are two options, always- win or lose. But Loki is a trickster god, a creature of third options and in-betweens. In this case, it seems, Asgard can be allowed to win- so long as Loki does not lose. And this does not feel like losing.

Loki smiles.

FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it ends. It took me something like a year to write this, in bits and snatches when I could find time, and I am grateful to everyone who provided insights and support while I was flailing because Loki was harder on himself than I could ever be. 
> 
> Thank you also to all of you who left kudos and comments. The ruling family of Asgard are thoroughly screwed up, and Odin will not be winning any Father of the year awards any time soon, but I suspect that writing him differently would be wildly out of character for him...
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing it (and I had a blast, even when flailing and whining about self-hating gods).


End file.
